


this feels like falling in love

by jmcats



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, OT5ish, an explicit ode to ed sheeran, and a little bit of poetry too, canon AU, right next to you leeyum, ziam endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmcats/pseuds/jmcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They’re so quiet afterwards, stretched across the sheets, pulled apart from end to end.</i>
</p><p>  <i>But somewhere, in the middle of a typhoon of unsaid words and dazed looks, their fingertips brush across the divide.  They twist and twine around each other and Zayn can’t help the way he stares at Liam until he smiles.</i></p><p>  <i>He can’t quite focus with Liam looking so soft and drunk and fond.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	this feels like falling in love

**Author's Note:**

> For [violentfires](http://violentfires.livejournal.com/).
> 
> So this is my submission for the [Ziam Exchange](http://ziam-exchange.livejournal.com/) and I am incredibly nervous about it. I don't know how much of my idea follows the guidelines submitted for me but I hope I did the ideas some justice. I love the idea of _"I will love you when you are a still day. / I will love you when you are a hurricane."_ given to me as one of the prompts and just really wanted a fetus!Ziam fic that had OT5 elements in it. (and it's probably the most sexual fic I've written in a long, long time so be gentle with me)
> 
> Thank you [Jarka](http://whispersbrave.tumblr.com) for listening to me whine about this. You are an angel.
> 
> This is a complete dedication to Ed Sheeran's _+_ album and contains elements from _[Mouthful of Forevers](http://clementinevonradics.tumblr.com/post/49054187544/i-am-not-the-first-person-you-loved-you-are-not)_ by Clementine von Radics.

 

 

_‘I am not the first person you loved. You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers.’_

 

/*/

 

“It’s called _staring_.”

Zayn blinks at Harry for a long moment before he realizes –

He’s been _gazing_ – because that sounds so much more fond and so much more like a _lovesick teenager_ and he’s not okay with that definition, honestly, but it fits – halfway across the room for a little over an hour at Liam with his heart halfway shoved into his throat.

Zayn’s been studying the lines of his arms, how he’s growing into his height and all of the muscle, the way his unmarked skin shines a certain kind of color that reminds Zayn of those west coast beaches he both loathes and loves.  His curls still fall into his eyes, even when he’s laughing, and those broad shoulders are a sharp contrast to his taut waist.  He’s knocking a football about with Niall, a halfhearted Louis, and the cuffs of his plaid shirt are shoved high up to his elbows.  The very top button is finally undone – along with a few others – and the loose pull of the material spills wider for a few glimpses of a tan chest and Zayn –

He stops breathing sometime between the crinkled eyes and the sugary smile and the way Liam pushes curls out of his vision to offer Zayn a dimple and a clear view of white teeth and pink-stained cheeks that are round, incredibly soft.

And Zayn, indefinitely, hates Harry Styles for pointing all of this out to him.

“What do you mean, man?” he chokes out, struggling to clear the lump from his throat with a casual hand splayed across his lap to settle the semi in his chinos.

Harry snorts, sharp teeth tearing away the skin of an apple.  He flicks – no, _twist-wait-flicks_ – the length of his curls from his eyes and swoops them across his forehead with a spare hand.  He cuddles a little closer to Zayn on the tiny settee with long, skinny legs half-draped across Zayn’s lap.

He shrugs once at Zayn, tipping his chin up to show off the gleam in his green eyes.  “What you’re doing.  It’s called _staring_ , mate.”

Zayn scoffs at him, looks away quickly because the burn in his cheeks and the starry-eyed look he’s certain he’s wearing will give him away.  He twists his fingers into the tight denim around Harry’s legs and pulls his bottom lip in with his teeth, fluttering his eyelashes like he’s unaffected.  But he _can’t_ –

It’s always been this thing: the way he can find Liam across a crowded room, in the middle of a pitch black galaxy, during a rough solo on stage or when he’s hazardously drowsy and needs a warm body to cuddle to.

It’s instinct.  It’s natural.  It’s incredibly _tragic_ and he hates the way his mind always recites silly Katy Perry lyrics to his heart because, inevitably, this boy surges rough flutters towards Zayn’s heart just for the _you make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream_ he refuses to serenade out loud.

But he attempts to blur his vision by staring too hard and the only thing he sees is Liam’s crooked, sleepy grin and his crinkles and his autumn-warm brown eyes and the corners of his mouth when his candy lips widen for another smile –

And all he thinks is _let’s go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love_ and being in love with your seventeen year old bandmate is unethical.

No, it’s a _disaster_ , is what it is.  A plane crash or a train wreck or falling for your best friend when they’re already in love with someone else.

But Zayn thinks he’s been caught in this tornado since sixteen and a chat at McDonald’s before an audition and _‘a bit of a bromance between me and Liam’_ hasn’t stopped echoing in his head since the live shows.

“Leeymo, you’re off your game.  C’mon and get your head in it,” Louis barks and Liam stumbles around Niall with the ball.

He’s a bit clumsy, laughing off the stain of his cheeks and the way the sweat flattens his curls and Niall, with a sneaky grin, steals the ball away without much effort.

“Stellar performance Nialler,” Harry cheers, cocking his head back with a laugh but he sneaks a glance at Zayn with this look –

Like _he knows_ when Zayn’s not even certain he knows what any of this means.

“It’s sort of cute,” Harry grins, another half-shrug before he bites into his apple.  He chews it loudly, over the knock of their unfinished single in the background and Zayn slouches a little against the rough leather of the settee.  “You’re almost as adorable with him as you were with Geneva and – “

“Harry,” Zayn sighs, wrinkling his nose.  “She and I were just – “

Harry waves him off with a muted laugh, nodding.  “She was just a good time, right?  An in-between of sorts?”

Zayn deflates some, still chewing his lip, before nodding.  “She was a good girl.”

“And _you_ ,” Harry says in this accusing voice that’s coated in affection and he leans into Zayn with a half-dimple and bright eyes, “You are quite the catch, bro.  ‘s a shame you just don’t tell him.”

Zayn shrugs him off out of necessity because he’s already suffocating on the looks Liam throws at them over his shoulder – a little worried, a little like Harry’s invading his territory and, yes, Zayn has never wanted so badly to be someone’s unconquerable property.  To be _his_.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he replies, halfheartedly, and the look Harry gives him destroys the unstable foundation he’s created when it comes to things like _this_ –

Like falling in love with a _boy_ for the first time and helpless smiles and sharing comic books after midnight and, guiltily, pressing his face into the crook of Liam’s neck when he’s too drowsy to shove Zayn away.

“Whatever,” Harry laughs, taking small sips of Louis’ forgotten Earl Grey and tossing an arm around Zayn’s already tense shoulders.  He presses his lips to Zayn’s ear, warm sweeps of breath and the tickle of his smile, “But if you _could_ – “

“I wouldn’t,” Zayn argues, quietly, glaring at the other three because his reflexes won’t let him squirm away.

“Fucking bullshit,” Harry giggles, tucking his head into that warm space between neck and shoulder.

“You’ve been fucking about with Lou too much,” Zayn teases, casually dragging his fingers through Harry’s soft curls.

“Yeah,” he breathes back, biting into his apple.  “And you’re too busy waiting on Superman to come save Mary Jane.”

“Lois Lane,” Zayn corrects with a defenseless smile and Harry’s fingers brushing intently at his ribs.

They fall into this musical silence, trading off their silly cover songs with Harry’s baritone and Zayn’s tenor, and grin at each other until that rush of his heartbeat quells into something soothing.  Something _tolerable_.  Until the dull echo in his head doesn’t keep reminding him that _‘you think I’m funny when I tell the punchline wrong’_ stops repeating over the white noise in his head.

He watches the other three with a crooked grin, puckers his lips into a sweet smile when Liam shuffles the ball away from Louis this time but he fumbles in his footing and Niall anchors a foot inward to grab it back.

Louis sighs, loudly.  He pushes unruly fringe from his eyes before declaring, “Maybe if you had a proper wank this morning, you’d be able to focus.”

Liam looks up, wide-eyed with a streak of pink high on his cheeks and Harry laughs into Zayn’s shoulder while Zayn tries to settle the oxygen back into his lungs.

“Who says I didn’t – “

Louis moans, almost obscenely, before knocking his shoulder to Liam’s.

“C’mon on now, lad, we’re brothers,” Louis says in this boasting tone like he’s seconds from a commencement speech.  “We all know when we’ve had a good wank.  Harry takes too long in the shower – “

“Have you seen my hair?” Harry barks with a booming laugh and he’s not fooling any of them.

“ – and Zayner always, always does it when he finally gets the single room,” Louis adds.

“Fuck off,” Zayn grins, flicking Louis a finger before shyly looking away from Liam’s smirk.  “At least I’m not noisy about it, yeah?”

Louis winks and smiles, tugging Liam closer.  “No, that would be Nialler and his horrendous porn.”

“Oi, I watch quality porn,” Niall argues, balancing the football from toe to toe, “unlike you, Tommo.”

Louis shrugs, drags his grin across Liam’s shoulder.  “I’m not particular, lads.  I wank off whenever I feel the need.”

“In the bus,” Niall groans, throwing a hand over his eyes.

“Before a show,” Liam hums, giggling at the way Louis mimics his technique.

“In the bed next to your mate,” Harry grumbles, his brow wrinkled with a pout across his cherry lips.

“Hey,” Louis whines, shooting Harry a flashy grin, “I gave you a good show.”

Harry rolls his eyes and Niall’s mock gasp slices through all of their deep breaths.

“Besides,” Niall says with that cheeky grin he learned from Harry and those wild, uninhibited blue eyes he stole from Louis, “A good shag is a proper way to clear the head.  No puns – “

“Oh, they were _intended_ ,” Louis chuckles lowly, squeezing an arm around Liam’s waist.

Liam ducks his head but, under the sharp lights of the room, Zayn can still pick out the freckled blush smeared over his cheeks, down across his jaw and the sharp tint over his neck that highlights the deep caramel splotch of a birthmark.  He hides his smile in his knuckles and he swears he can hear Harry singing _‘I could stay awake just to hear you breathing’_ into the shell of his ear.

He considers elbowing him away or punching him but he’s pinned down by Liam’s desperate gaze, the one he always offers up when the others are taking a piss at him or mocking his _‘let’s go boys, we need to practice’_ speech before every show.

“Right, cheers mate.  A proper good _fuck_ is what you need,” Louis agrees, a sinful smile spread over his lips and his tongue flicks across them for emphasis when Liam gazes at him with large eyes, that dizzying expression stirring something in the pit of Zayn’s stomach.

Something cold, aching, like waking up between cold sheets alone after a cheap night of pressing into someone –

“Or getting properly fucked,” Louis adds, slyly, winking at Liam until the blush turns crimson.  “Sometimes I think you lads – “

Harry moans in annoyance and Niall’s wheezing chuckle distracts Zayn from the way Liam cringes.

“Get off it, Lou, we all know how much you enjoy – “

“Do you, Haz?” Louis teases with bunched up moonlit eyes, craning his neck to smirk at Harry.  “Because that one night at your step-dad’s bungalow when I – “

Harry lets out a disapproving hiss, shoulders hunched and Zayn can feel the heat radiating from his tense muscles.

“It was _one time_ , mate,” Harry moans, smashing his feverish cheeks to Zayn’s shoulder and biting into the thin material of his shirt until Zayn swears there’s marks across his skin.  “You lot got me pissed on beers and, Jesus Lou, it was one decent handjob.”

“Decent?” Louis gasps and Niall lobs the ball at his head with a laugh, with a crooked grin that diverts the attention from his bleached out hair and the braces and the California blue eyes that are so enchanting.

“S’about Li, remember Lou?” Niall sighs with hands on his hips and Liam looks _horrified_.

“Decent,” Louis repeats with a scowl before half-turning back to Liam and Zayn can almost feel all of the fear trapped between his muscles, his bones, the tightness around Liam’s shoulders like _just stop now_ is on the tip of his tongue.

“We don’t have to – “

Niall waves a careless hand around, cheeks arced and his lopsided smile is incredibly addictive, even when the world is angry with him.

“What about that dancer from the show?  You know, the one you’re _courting_ and – “

“Nialler,” Louis swoons, tilting his head with this overly-affectionate grin that Niall giggles at.  “Have you borrowed Malik’s thesaurus or Harry’s crossword?”

“Courting,” Harry repeats lowly, sugary lips spun up into a tangled smile that Louis mimics from across the room.

“Fuck off you tossers,” Niall sneers, snapping his head in Liam’s direction and Zayn is certain the quiver that runs through Liam’s spine aches just under his own fingertips.  “Are ye not shagging her yet, mate?  At least a proper blowjob ‘r someth’ng like that?”

Zayn watches the cherry blossom stain of blush as it rivers down Liam’s neck, across the exposed bits of his chest and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips because he can’t help imagine the way that chest rises and falls during sex.  He wants to know if it turns a gorgeous pink when he’s exerting his muscles or when his stomach goes tight before he comes or how sweet his skin glows afterwards, sweaty and slick and indescribable.

He strangles a moan and hides his face when Harry quirks an eyebrow up at him because –

 _Fuck_.

“We don’t – um, well,” Liam stammers, a hand covering the one Louis already has pressed to the nape of his neck, his chin tucked.  He drags the toe of his Converse over the floor, almost bites a bruise into his lip before looking up again.  His lips twist into an achy smile and it’s hard not to notice the way his eyes avoid Zayn’s before he adds, “We haven’t, actually.  I mean, not full-on, y’know.  Just some snogging and, I dunno, I don’t think she’d – “

“Christ, Li,” Louis whimpers with ragged breaths.  He squeezes Liam tighter and something hot coils down in Zayn’s belly –

It’s not often – well, maybe – but this feeling tightens around him like an improperly fitted jumper.  He doesn’t want to define it as jealousy but maybe he aches when Harry always presses sloppy kisses to Liam’s cheek or the way Louis’ always whispering into the crook of Liam’s neck or the way Niall can make Liam laugh harder than anyone else.  Or maybe it’s the way he’s seen Danielle’s fingers across the back of Liam’s hand, fit into the collar of his shirt or stroking the inside of his thigh like _‘I want you now’_ that caresses a growl out of the monster in his chest.  And maybe he hates when someone else fits naturally into Liam’s life because he thinks Liam is complex and misunderstood and so incredibly _polite_ about everything that he finds it hard to breathe.

He finds it hard to imagine Liam looking at him like _‘right next to my heart, it’s where you fit, Zayn’_ could or would ever cross those sweetly pink lips.

“You’re not a virgin, are you Li?” Louis asks with a clenched throat.

Harry grunts out a laugh and Zayn wants to bruise his cheek with a fist.

“He can’t be,” Harry asserts, dragging Zayn in closer, “Remember that awful night of cider and _Truth or Dare_ when he said – “

Liam groans, hides the sound in Louis’ collar and Niall wriggles his eyebrows with excitement.

And Zayn remembers – _‘It was just before my first go on the show and I didn’t really last that long and I don’t know if it counts because I, um, didn’t really get her off.  I just sort of, um, stuck it in and came’_ – and he’ll never erase the image of a blushing Liam with fringe in his almond eyes or the nervous twist of his smile or the feeling of his long fingers squeezing around Zayn’s hand for a sympathetic grin.

He’ll never forget brushing his lips to Liam’s temple, swearing his first time was horrific and how the girl refused to answer his calls for a whole year afterwards.

“It’s just that,” Liam swallows, lowers his eyes again to kick a scuff mark into the floor, before whispering, “I s’ppose m’not proper good in bed, ‘kay?  Like I know I’m supposed to be manly and – “

There’s a stuttering sigh across his lips and Zayn stares at his mouth, the softness and thinks about the chapped feel of that flesh burning over his neck with a hand shoved down his trousers.

He trembles against Harry, pinching at his thigh to silence the throaty _‘Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light – ‘_ across Harry’s tongue and Liam looks up at them curiously.

Harry tugs fingers through his messy hair, drags dull nails over his scalp until the calm settles into his system and he tears his eyes away from Liam’s frown when Louis whistles expectantly.  He squeezes the need from his fingers while Liam fidgets and twitches and –

Zayn wants to protect him and that’s completely daft.  He isn’t a superhero or stronger than Liam, broader.  But it sizzles up through his bones and, when Louis leans in and whispers something filthy to Liam’s skin, he wants to knock him away and let Liam burrow his embarrassment and abashed expression into the hollow of Zayn’s neck.

“So,” Harry crows, drawing away from Zayn and leering at Liam, “you won’t bang her because you’re not sure if you’re ace in the sheets?”

Liam chokes out a noise of disapproval and bites furiously at his lip until it’s swollen, a strawberry shade that Zayn imagines licking into a sugary pink again.

“It’s not – “

“Because if so,” Louis says, shrugs almost disinterestedly except his eyes go dark and he grins mischievously like he does just before he pulls a prank or convinces Zayn to sneak out after one in the morning, “than Horan over here would never shag anyone.”

“Hey,” Niall scowls, kicking at Louis’ ankle.  “I’m brilliant in bed.  I have a magical cock.”

Louis snorts, nodding passively.  “Of course you do, babe.  All leprechauns have magical dicks, ‘m sure.”

Harry chuckles, tugs Zayn’s hair into a messier state and he thinks to fix it but Liam cocks his head with a small smile like _‘it looks perfect’_ waits behind his teeth and the awed look on his face siphons the oxygen from Zayn’s bloodstream.

Zayn pushes away from Harry, rises and crosses the room to wedge into Liam’s other side, smirking over his shoulder with a half-trembling hand pressed to the small dip in Liam’s spine.  He’s welcomed with a flattering smile, an unsaid _thank you_ that he wants to stitch over the beating heart already sewn to the sleeve of his silly Thor shirt.

“I just don’t think,” Liam pauses, nudging back against Zayn before saying, with a little more courage, “Doesn’t matter, right?  ‘m no good and who has time for practice when we have rehearsals and a worldwide tour and stop looking at me like that, Lou.”

Louis sneers, shoots Zayn this hazardous grin over Liam’s shoulder and Zayn has to look away to settle the grin over his lips.

“It explains the tension,” Niall says carelessly, kipping up the ball to bounce it off his knee.

“And the constant need for a routine,” Harry adds, dragging his teeth over the remains of his apple, sticky juices sliding down his jaw.

“And the constant hard-ons when we’re on stage,” Louis teases and Liam wiggles further away and into Zayn’s careful arm –

And Zayn, absently, squeezes him tighter and propels that stupid grin on his lip into the side of Liam’s neck.

“M’not the one with a stiffy on stage,” Liam whines, sighs breathlessly.  “That’s Harry.”

Harry agrees silently with a nod, a cheap grin that tricks a giggle from Louis’ chest.

“Fucking needy bastard,” Louis smirks, winking at the unabashed gleam on Harry’s face.

Louis pulls off of Liam with this tactful look on his face, rubbing his hands together like some mad genius who’s on the verge of a manic laugh, his brow raised high and that sticky grin on his stretched lips terrifies Zayn –

Like those times he suggested they go streaking or finishing an entire bottle of vodka while eating jelly cups or stealing all of the Wanted’s hair products and replacing them with kitchen cleaner.

“We should do something about this,” he suggests, wiggling his fingers against each other, eyes wide like the moon, “Sounds absolutely brilliant.”

“What does?” Harry wonders with a quirked eyebrow.

Niall, in the distance, nods with a lazy smile.

“Let’s teach him,” Louis suggests with the kind of confidence that they all know is detrimental but convincing Louis is like offering a lion fresh fruit rather than an elk.  “Let’s break ‘im in, properly.  You know, teach him how to be a proper good kisser and a few tricks in the bed – “

“You have no tricks,” Niall laughs out and ducks when Louis tosses a spare football at his head.

“Shut it,” Louis grins, eyes glittery soft when Niall giggles back at him.  There’s a bluntness to expression that Liam shivers at and Zayn, feeling stronger, thumbs at his spine and secures his arm like an anchor to keep Liam from running.

Louis eyes them, a once over that Zayn is certain Liam misses but he doesn’t.  He can’t with Louis grinning at him like the wheels are turning and the plot is unfolding and just before his next breath –

“We could just guide you a little, Leeymo,” he offers in a soft, sweet voice that’s just for dramatics.  It’s all theatrical and playful and Zayn watches Liam fall right into it.

“Like,” Liam struggles, swallowing a loud breath, “Like help me out a little?  Just, I dunno, suggestions, right?”

Louis leans in, smirking, and Zayn knows better.  Fuck, _he knows_ so much better by now.

“Sure,” Louis coos, stroking a hand across Liam’s cheek that Zayn almost smacks away.  “We just want to help, darling.  Just a few tips.  Maybe some demonstrations – “

“Lou,” Zayn says like a warning but Louis ignores him, winking at Liam instead.

“It’ll be alright, Leeymo, trust me,” Louis starts and Liam stiffens at that –

They all remember Wellington and Manchester and that studio in Sweden where all of Louis’ worst suggestions started with _‘trust me’_ and ended up in near fatalities or someone losing their trousers or a shoe.

“Will there be touching?” Niall inquires before Liam can loosen his tongue to say anything.

Louis shrugs, bites down on his lip in this mock-innocent way that Liam frowns at.

“If Leeymo allows it,” Louis whispers, closer now.

“M’not touching his dick,” Harry mumbles and Louis flips him off without Liam noticing, still leaning in and still trying to crowd warmth over all of the obscenity.

“Fuck, sounds fantastic,” Niall croons, laughing roughly at the glare Zayn shoots him behind Liam’s back.

“It does, right Leeymo?” Louis says, breathily, on the verge of erotic and the discoloration of Liam’s cheeks spreads down his neck, circles his birthmark until Zayn thinks of biting the skin another hue and waiting for Liam’s reaction.

His cock twitches, just a little, and he settles on breathing through his mouth to subdue the moan slicking his throat.  His fingers shove, absently, into Liam’s spine and he can’t quiet the hum of his heart when Liam pushes back into the touch.

“I s’ppose,” Liam gasps, his breathing rough and his knuckles brushing helplessly against Zayn’s side like he’s still waiting to be rescued.

And Zayn’s incapable.  Not with those bruised pink lips and soft cheeks and unruly curls tangled over his eyes and the way the shadows make his eyes stand out.

He _can’t_ when all he wants is to safely drag Liam across tender hotel sheets and learn the taste of his body without these clothes as a barrier, with the rush of endorphins in his blood and Liam’s whimpers licked into his mouth.

“You don’t have to,” Louis says with a husky, hoarse voice that’s almost deep like Harry’s in the morning or scratchy like Niall’s after his solos or indigent like Zayn’s when Liam’s been staring at him for too long across the stage.

His eyes go wide, his vision fuzzy when Louis cautiously brushes the back of his hand to Liam’s thigh, inward, right next to his –

“But it’d just be us, your mates, helping out,” Louis adds, lips tipped sideways, “S’that so bad?  It’s actually sort of fantastic, innit?”

Liam has this embarrassingly goofy grin on his lips, a small nod for Louis before he backs into Zayn’s touch.

“I don’t know, bro, I just – “

Zayn catches the hitch in Liam’s breath, rough knuckles pressing up and something white hot surges in his blood.  It beats heavy against all of his marrow and all he can think of is that sixteen year old boy who wanted _‘to infinity and beyond’_ inked to his collarbone with the shaggy hair and the fuzzy eyebrows and this indiscoverable adoration for comic books like Zayn has.  This boy who looked at Zayn in awe whenever he went for a high note and the one who tangled around Zayn during rainstorms because Zayn couldn’t admit he was afraid of thunder but _Liam_ – Liam always knew.

His fingers fit into the material of Liam’s collar and he bites down roughly on his lip for a second when Liam turns and –

He swears he’s imagined this a little different –

Maybe over a cup of tea in the morning with their bare ankles knocking and their words whispered while the other slept.  Maybe outside of Big Ben, in the middle of winter, when no one is looking and they’re counting down to the new year with this equally large lovesick look in their eyes.  Maybe during a marathon of Marvel films in the dark, Liam’s fingers stroking the line of his jaw and his own hand cupping the nape of Liam’s neck to slow that hazy feeling in his stomach just before a _‘this is a first for me too’_ crosses his lips.

Probably in the middle of the tour, when they’re uncontrollable and happy and still buzzing from their last performance, just outside of a venue under a heavily star-filled sky with his heart matching Liam’s like the harmonies they produce when they’re not even trying.

But this: he stiffly presses his mouth to Liam’s, painfully fast and equally sloppy until Liam’s mouth parts for a gasp and Zayn squeezes his eyes shut not to catch the wrinkle of Liam’s nose when he kisses a little harder.

It’s one of those childish kisses where their lips don’t really move or part and there’s no tongue but heavy breathing follows.  There’s an angry blush slashed across his cheeks and Liam’s a little paler.  It hurts and Zayn looks away instantly, turns to Louis with this put upon proudness as if he’s accomplished something.

Like he’s won the battle, maybe not the war.

He throws on this goofy accent – the one he uses to convince Harry to listen to his song ideas or the one he throws upon Niall when he wants chocolate or when he simply wants Louis to laugh at him – and smirks at Louis before saying, “See Louis, now he’s kissed somebody proper for you.  So can we, like, all go play Mario Kart or summat?”

Harry cackles from the settee and Louis smirks, shaking his head.  Zayn wants to turn away and hide in Liam’s arms except –

He can hear the uneven breathing from Liam’s mouth, can almost see the way he’s still staring at Zayn in shock and he wants to run away this time.

He wants to hide off in his hotel room and blast his music through his headphones and fall asleep to Drake rather than the soft murmur of Liam’s voice when he’s cuddling Zayn closely until they’re both calm from singing to a thousand screaming fans.

“Nice try,” Louis hums, patting Zayn’s cheek with a condescending look and a rough hand, “But not good enough, Zayner.”

Zayn knocks him away, scowls until a hand fits over the line of his spine and he _feels_ Liam’s warmth before he recognizes it.  He blinks at the hopeful smile on Liam’s lips, the ones that are a little bruised and swollen and Zayn breathes sharply because _he did that_.

He _kissed_ Liam.

It slips sharply into his muscles and, reflexively, he nudges into Liam with this brotherly smile because he’s still not certain what this means.  But he’s almost convinced _Liam isn’t into boys_ or the thought hasn’t crossed his mind and, if so, surely it wouldn’t be _Zayn_.

Louis crowds into their space, presses up against Liam with this filthy grin that haunts Zayn before he says, “We shall continue this later.”

It echoes in Zayn’s head, loud and arrogantly, and Liam bites his lips before tugging away to chase the football around with Niall again.  Zayn stretches all of his restrained muscles, brushes a tongue – and Liam’s taste is still there, the sweet chocolate and tart sour candies he stole from Harry and something indescribably _Liam_ – before looking at Harry’s grin.

The shiver that spills over his spine, he won’t forget.  But he holds onto the way that, for a brief second, there was something in Liam’s wide eyes after the kiss that was a little promising.

Imagined, maybe, but promising.

 

/*/

 

_‘Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night.’_

 

/*/

 

After rehearsals, when he’s worn his throat hoarse from singing louder than the drum of his heart and he’s dizzy from staring at the distance between him and Liam and while the smoke from his cigarette stings from the rawness of tightening his muscles around the words he doesn’t say to Liam –

The _‘you’re amazing’_ and the _‘I love the way your voice sounds like that’_ and the _‘can we maybe kiss again later because I’m much,_ much _better than that’_

– Louis finds him behind the rehearsal space with a loose grin on his lips.

Zayn shoves all of his product-free fringe from his eyes, glares at Louis for a brief moment before motioning him closer.

They knock their shoulders together, smiling, slipping into that nameless silence they’ve always shared.  They’ve never had to be loud like Louis and Harry or manic like he and Niall or even gentle like Zayn and Liam.  It’s this comfortable in-between – like the crest of a wave between tides or the sunset across a rain-slick city – that they breathe in and neither of them has ever bothered to say anything about it.

They just _exist_ like this.

Louis brushes their knuckles together, scrunches his face at Zayn when he takes a drag because this is new too – the smoking, not the brooding because, since his arrival, Zayn has been nothing less than that.

“Having a strop, are we?” Louis teases, their wrists catching in the dull ache of mid-spring heat.

Zayn laughs, huffs the smoke out between his teeth like a narrow chimney.  “How do you have a strop?”

Louis shrugs, wrinkles his nose at Zayn when he takes another deep inhale.

“Harry and I had a chat,” Louis starts and Zayn almost chokes on the swell of grey clouds in his lungs.  Louis nods at him, that strange softness that rarely occupies his expression.  “Do you – “

“Louis,” Zayn whines, turns his eyes away but doesn’t struggle when Louis twists a couple of their fingers together.  “It’s stupid.”

“I already knew,” Louis whispers and the stream of smoke that escapes Zayn’s clenched jaw floats between them until Louis waves it off.

“You – “

“Since the competition, mate.  Well before you even did,” Louis adds, nodding.  He bites sheepishly at his lip while Zayn stares at him and the silence that lulls between their chests doesn’t feel quite as heavy as Zayn expected.

“Sort of the way I was about Harry but,” Louis pauses, thoughtfully, before smiling, “’s a bit different, y’know?  You two, at least.  I never asked him about it, though.”

Zayn nods, tips his head down for another puff of smoke.  It’s just hopeful thinking, that’s all it ever is.

Like maybe Liam would feel the same way and maybe all of those girls he’s seen Liam holding hands with, pressing a tender peck to their cheeks, admiring from afar like they’re something amazing –

Maybe he’d look at Zayn with that same intent.

“I reckon my idea isn’t horrible,” Louis suggests and Zayn refrains from balking to laugh through a stream of smoke.

“You’re an idiot,” Zayn breathes, gazing up at the swirl of tangerines and cloyingly sweet pinks chasing each other in a wide sky.  He shrugs when Louis squeezes around his fingers and refuses to look back.

“We’re going through with it, Malik,” Louis insists and Zayn knows better than to argue with Louis.

But that catch in his heart is just a reminder that none of Louis’ ideas ever work out properly.

Not any of the good ones, at least.

He pretends not to notice the grin on Louis’ lips or the way he whispers dirty, filthy words into Liam’s ear the whole ride back to the hotel or the way he keeps stroking the nape of Liam’s neck, tangling fingers into his hair until his thick blush is on display for half of London to see.  He swallows and knocks them all away to wedge next to Liam and there’s this grateful smile spreading over Liam’s lips when they’re close enough, when it’s just them and –

Zayn bites at his own smile because it’s unwarranted.  Liam is just a mate and there’s no heat between their fingers when they accidently brush and Liam grins at like him a _brother_ and not a _‘to infinity and beyond.’_

And they’re _normal_ again, a kiss forgotten, and it’s all Zayn could ask for.

 

/*/

 

Except he wants a kiss and his name sliding off Liam’s tongue and he wants to see his come shiny across Liam’s abdomen and, possibly, he wants to wake up to Liam breathing into the crook of his neck with their bare skin pressed together and a breathless morning kiss that feels like a start rather than just to prove a point.

Because this boy, accidentally, has become the only thing Zayn thinks he wants to know.

 

/*/

 

They’re shoved into Liam’s room afterwards, crowded across his bed because he has the single room this time, and they watch a marathon of _Torchwood_ with the city banked from edge to edge by the sunset.  It’s a flare of burnt sienna in the distance, twilight blushing over the clouds.  The stars are a fuzzy splattering high in the skyline and Zayn thinks he’s more in love with the way everything looks kissed in smooth purples rather than the way all of their limbs are pressed together like _unity_ or _solidarity_ isn’t far from their mouths.

Niall steals beers from Paul’s stash and they’re passed around bonfire-style, Liam exempting himself with a mild grin and his fingers tugging gently through Zayn’s forgotten quiff.  None of them tease him, not anymore, about having one kidney and his aversion to alcohol but Harry sputters a grin and Louis eyes them with a wide, wide smile that Zayn tries to avoid by mouthing along to the Ed Sheeran Harry’s playing in the background.  Liam grins against his temple, knocks his ankle to Zayn’s to the backbeat and none of them comment about the way their hips are wedged together, thighs pressed, shoulders creating this combustible heat between them.

Liam wraps a spare hand around the nape of Harry’s neck and Zayn tickles at Niall’s bare feet while Louis lays across their lap and Zayn grins to himself because, yes, this is perfect.

This is their existence.

This is his _comfort_ when he’s hours from home.

He’s too distracted by the natural wrinkles around Liam’s eyes when he laughs at Niall’s Al Pacino impersonations and the twist of his candy pink lips and the baby weight that makes his cheeks rounder, softer to notice Louis leering at Liam or Harry sneaking just a little closer.  He’s lost on some conversation about James Bond while Niall salutes with new beers for everyone.

Louis’ particularly wide grin when he looks at both of them startles him and he diverts his eyes to the way he and Liam’s fingers twist together in the small divide between their hips.  He admires the soft flush of his sunlit gold skin in contrast to Liam’s tan skin and how they’re opposites but their fingers fit so – _tenderly_.

It’s a complete juxtaposition to his thoughts about the way Liam’s cock would fit in his throat.  His mind is preoccupied long enough for Louis to crawl up and around them and wedge between their hips with a cheeky smirk that Zayn swears he stole from Harry.

“So _Liam_ ,” he swoons with a filthy tongue and eyes like an eclipsed moon and Zayn automatically spots the tension captured in Liam’s sunlit gold eyes, “about our chat earlier.”

“Oi, are we still on about that?” Niall wonders around the lip of his bottle.

Louis’ _yes_ is perfectly synchronized with Zayn’s _no_ and they eye each other vengefully before Louis pleads sweetly with a coy smile that Zayn groans at.

Harry grins at both of them, fingers still fixed to the nape of Liam’s neck until Zayn can see, slowly, all of the fear diffuse from Liam’s cells.  There’s still a twitch at the corner of his mouth that gives him away and Zayn itches to reach around Louis just to twist their fingers together again.

And, for a second, he thinks his favorite part about sunsets now is how the flares of orange and crimson reflect over Liam’s eyes and corner those little specks of sepia around his irises.

“So we’re doing this?” Harry inquires with a spark behind his eyes that Zayn cringes at.

Louis nods and Liam’s looking around, anxiously, trying to feel out all of their expressions and chewing his lip raw and Zayn – he swallows a breath, clenches his fingers in the fine hotel linen and purposely looks away when Liam’s cheeks start to burn.

“We think,” Louis starts and Harry tosses out a protesting noise that Louis grumbles at.

“Since when did _you_ become a _‘we’_?” Harry argues but his tone is supple, verging on sweet because he and Louis never really fight.  They simply refuse to agree with smiles and small touches and lingering glances like two lovesick school kids who never really had that first kiss.

Louis moans and flicks Harry’s forehead before turning back to Liam.  “We think this is for the best.”

“Teaching him?” Niall asks, upside down with his head in Zayn’s lap and Zayn, instinctively, curls fingers through his blonde hair just for the shagginess brushing over his skin.

“Showing him,” Louis corrects and Liam tenses immediately.

“I thought,” he stammers, eyes too wide like the bad effects of a decent high, “I thought you – I dunno, thought you were just going to give me tips.  Suggestions, maybe?”

Louis cackles at him, pushes playfully at Liam’s shoulder until he’s knocked back into Harry’s open arms.

“This is not like course studies, Li, you can’t take notes,” Louis teases and Liam’s cheeks stain another shade of pink, eyes lowered until he has to look up through his feathery lashes.

He’s roughing up his lip with his teeth again and Zayn wants to be his anesthetic.  He wants to soothe the sore flesh with his lips, medicate him with his tongue and watch Liam fall apart for the way he whispers his name with crinkled eyes and a ruddy smile.

Instead, he twists a little in Louis’ direction and pokes a finger into his ribs until Louis finally looks away from Liam.

“You’re manic,” he hisses and Louis shrugs, unaffected.

“It’ll help, you’ll see,” Louis says to no one in particular and Harry’s howling laugh vibrates through the room.

Zayn swears Paul’s going to shove through the door and yell at them for bothering the other hotel guests but he can’t focus his mind on anything except for the ocean dividing him and Liam and the way he still thinks he can save him.

“We should start – “

“Start?” Liam chokes out and Louis rolls his eyes instantly, nodding with a lethal kind of smile.

“Yes, _start_ with snogging and then,” he pauses, permits Liam a chance to hollow out a breath, before adding, “Then we’ll see where the night takes us, yeah?”

Liam freezes all over, lips quivering and Niall chuckles against one of Zayn’s thighs.  “You’re a right mad genius, ye know that Tommo?”

Louis nods approvingly and Zayn sputters a noise of disagreement that Louis refuses to acknowledge.

“I’m not kissing him,” Harry protests quickly with surrendering hands raised.

“I might,” Niall shrugs, rolling onto his stomach and fitting between Louis’ calves with a mild smirk.  He cocks his head sideways at Liam, sighing, “Will you be gentle with me?  It’s me first real snog with a bloke.”

Louis chokes a laugh into Liam’s shoulder and Zayn, reflexively, kicks at Niall with a grin.

“What about that lad you said you made out with over the break after the competition?” Harry asks, pulling long fingers through Liam’s curls until they tangle.

Niall rolls his eyes, the natural pink in his cheeks shifting darker.  “Oi, so what?  I was stuck in a room with four other lads for _months_.  All of that testosterone and sexual tension made me curious.  Piss off.”

Harry giggles quietly and Louis clears his throat to draw the attention back to him, back to a nervous Liam who’s twitching and still looking around for an escape.

“I think our dear Malik here – “

“Louis, don’t,” Zayn warns with a furrowed brow, a scowl that Louis blindly waves off.

“Our boy Zayner seems like a good start, right Leeymo?” Louis offers, jerking his head in Zayn’s direction and Zayn holds his breath when Liam cranes his neck to look around Louis.  He blinks a half dozen times at Zayn, looking thoughtful and fearful and toeing the edge of the world all at once.

There’s a considering expression washing over his face and, no, Zayn’s heart doesn’t race at the proposition but his chest expands and the blood from his fingers and toes rushes to his cock and he bites down harshly on his bottom lip to contain the _‘I’ll be your first everything if you ask’_ that scratches at the roof of his mouth.

“Alright,” Liam agrees with a swallow, with a stammer in his tone, with a harsh breath.  He smiles crookedly at Zayn, shrugging before he adds, “S’ppose it should be you, yeah Zaynie?”

Zayn tries to look indifferent with puckered lips, a scrunched face but he can’t help catch the noise in the background, the soft and familiar _‘settle down with me cover me up cuddle me in’_ that steals a part of his breath when Louis grins ruthlessly and crawls from between them, into Harry’s lap.

It takes them a whole heartbeat, a long minute, maybe an hour before they scoot a little closer.  Zayn can feel his heart rate in his fingertips, watches the nerves in Liam’s smile, the way they sit close but still too far apart.  He grumbles when Niall nudges his hip to shove him nearer and Harry, politely, thumps Liam’s spine until he shuffles towards Zayn and then –

 _Oh_.

 _Beautiful_.

The length of Liam’s eyelashes and the sun falling away in the distance permits the soft glow of the hotel lights to caress Liam’s cheeks.  There’s a dusting of stubble under his jaw because he hasn’t been able to properly grow it out like Zayn can, his lips that delicious shade of a pink ice lolly.  His mismanaged curls create shadows along all of Zayn’s favorite features – his nose, the curve of his jaw, the roundness at the height of his cheeks – and his wide, tight shoulders play a nice parallel to his long neck.

Zayn breathes against the _‘lie down with me and hold me in your arms’_ while Liam alternates between licking his lips wet and dragging twitching fingers up the seam of Zayn’s chinos.  It’s a nice distraction, the acoustic guitar and his heartbeat in his ears and Liam’s heavy breathing, until their goofy smirks turn them into a fit of giggles.

“This is daft, man,” Liam laughs softly, tilting his chin to hide his abashed little smile.

Zayn’s heart presses firmly to his chest and his fingers automatically catch Liam’s chin, lifting it until their eye level and –

 _Incredible_.

He smirks crookedly, thumbs Liam’s jaw until the rough hairs sting and he anchors to a breath before leaning in.  He keep their foreheads pressed, grinning, watching the crinkles around Liam’s eyes and the flush of his cheeks.  They don’t sway, not immediately, but they fall into this synchronized way of swallowing their breaths and sharing vulnerable looks and, willingly, Zayn thinks this is what it feels like right before you fall.

And this, their eyes on each other and their smiles wide and Liam’s fingers finding his shoulder for a comforting squeeze, is a little bigger than just teaching Liam –

But he won’t recognize that, not fully, for a whole year.  Or a fortnight.

“C’mon Malik, on with it already,” Louis groans impatiently, nudging a foot into Liam’s spine and Zayn bites back his harsh words when Liam flutters his eyes shut.

 _Anticipation_ is what it’s called.  And it’s like the world has been predicting this long before Zayn knew he wanted it – no, _needed_ it.

He angles his head awkwardly and tries to remember his last great kiss – and there isn’t really one to compare this to but he tries.

They fumble their lips together, a solid press that sparks like lightning and burns like wildfires and Zayn swallows a moan when Liam carefully moves his lips.  Zayn tries to encourage Liam with soft noises but there’s no definite technique and Liam’s not awful – _he’s unpracticed_.  He’s all rough motions and shaking fingers under Zayn’s jaw and a tenseness that Zayn can’t quite kiss through.

It’s a little messy, uncoordinated, and their noses bump when they try to change the pressure.  He sucks sweetly at Liam’s bottom lip, stretches his neck to chase Liam before he can get away and he doesn’t quite slip his tongue in Liam’s mouth but he coaxes a whine from his mouth when he licks across his bottom lip.

It ends too quickly and Zayn feels like such an amateur when Liam draws back with his lips between his teeth, an uneasy smile on his face.  It twists down in his gut and he just wants to crawl inside of his skin.  But Liam’s fingers tangle in his shirt, hold tightly, and he watches the blush bloom across those soft cheeks and instinct almost overrides logic but he remembers this is just an experiment.

They’re just teaching Liam, helping him out, right?

Harry makes a disapproving noise while Niall, nudged between Louis and Harry now, laughs mockingly at the way their shy expressions overshadow the ragged stretch of their breathing.

“Boring,” Louis huffs, twisting fingers into Harry’s curls.

“C’mon Zaynie,” Harry whines, crawling over the other two, “He’s not one of your mates from back home or your _brother_.  Kiss him like you want him.”

Louis nods quickly, Niall silently agreeing and Zayn makes a face at the three of them because _fuck off, he_ does _want him_.

“Here,” Harry sighs weakly, stringing a rough hand into Liam’s curls and tugging until Liam’s almost turning in his direction, “Lemme show you.”

Zayn’s large eyes watch Harry and something pelts his heart, ice surging through his blood and coating his bones and he reacts immediately.

“Haz!” he shouts and knocks Harry back with a strong hand, his free fingers curving into the collar of Liam’s shirt and dragging him back.  Harry falls away, laughing into a warm embrace from Niall and Louis and Liam’s wide eyes stare at Zayn for a long second.

He feels embarrassed and desperate and his fingers soothe down the nape of Liam’s neck until they both relax.  He calms his breathing, feels the bed dip when Liam shifts closer, pressing their hips together again.  There’s this sweet, affectionate look adrift in Liam’s eyes like he wants to be nearer.  Like he wants what Zayn’s thinking and it’s unexpected, it breaks his cells apart and covers his heart and shuffles away this uncomfortable feeling that clings to him like armor.

“Just let me,” Zayn pauses with Liam’s eyes on his lips, falters before, “Um, I can try again?”

Liam pushes closer still, curves an arm around Zayn’s waist and smiles anxiously.

He stutters and whispers, “I trust you.”

Zayn nods slowly, teases a hand up into Liam’s hair for gravity this time.  For an anchor, for both of them.  He thumbs a few of the curls back and breathes, fuck he _just breathes_ because it’s all he can think to do.  The rest – the rest is instinct and an involuntary desire he can’t quite silence.

They go softly this time, slowly, pliant and gentle.  Zayn steadies Liam’s nervous jaw, coaxes him into a small kiss, a longer one, a deeper one until Liam’s making these noises that stir a throb through Zayn’s cock.

Zayn tries to kiss through Liam’s uneasy rhythm, the way he’s still a bit shy and self-conscious when his lips shift the wrong way.  It drives Zayn mad.  This tingling excitement to teach this boy and to show him how wonderful he is at this –

And he’s completely _Liam_ through it all – awkward and clumsy with his lips and his timing is hideous but he makes up for it with this tenderness, a warmness to every one of his touches.  He makes every moment an orbit and its center is Zayn.

“Hey,” Zayn whispers in this unintended huskiness that’s a bit gravelly like when he first wakes up.

Liam’s eyelashes flutter when Zayn pulls back a little, noses brushing and the faded off sun births amber into Liam’s irises.  It wakes a careful smile across Zayn’s lips, his heart rapid but his fingers still slow.

“It’s just me, innit?” he whispers between heavy beats, thumbing across Liam’s pink lips.  “Just that lad who likes to read _Justice League_ with you, yeah?”

“Even though you hate it,” Liam laughs, his voice hoarse but still harmonious with his grin.

“I don’t hate ‘em,” Zayn grins, his nose scrunching and Liam makes an outrageous noise like _‘that’s beautiful’_ that Zayn suffocates on.

“It’s just you, mate,” Liam says, even softer, leaning back in.

“Oi, on with it you inconsiderate twats!” Niall barks, scarred knuckles shoving against Liam’s shoulder blade.

“Enough with the bloody commentary, Malik,” Louis sighs, dramatically, and Zayn almost nudges past Liam to knock him over.  “Kiss ‘im and show ‘im how it’s done, cheers.”

He peers past Liam’s wide shoulder for a scowl and is greeted by a cheeky smile that he thinks, later on, he’ll never quite forget or forgive before he gentles toward Liam again.

They shift like the sea and sands with lips brushing, fingers encouraging.  He works Liam’s lips open with a tender tongue and revels when Liam sucks on it.

Liam’s fingers press under his collar, against the top of his spine.  He moans quietly when Zayn smiles into a kiss.  He flicks his tongue at Zayn’s teeth and Zayn, carefully, bites down on his lower lip until Liam shoves their chests together and whimpers back.  Zayn angles Liam’s head with a thumb, slower now, licks at the roof of his mouth and mouths _‘and I’ll be your safety’_ to swollen lips.

An unsure hand slides up the inside of his thigh, not quite high enough, and Zayn shifts his legs apart like he’s giving Liam permission.  He pulls a little roughly on Liam’s curls, grinning over his bottom lip and Liam’s mouth is sweet like those leftover chocolates he steals from all of their hotel rooms.  There’s a saltiness like the ocean behind his teeth, his lips compliant to all of Zayn’s actions before he’s thrusting his tongue in Zayn’s mouth and swiping away the fragments of tobacco from his last cigarette.

“Fucking hot,” Niall moans from somewhere behind Liam.

“See,” Louis boasts and Zayn ignores the tone of his voice to shove a breathy moan into Liam’s mouth, “Didn’t think you had it in you, Malik.”

Liam laughs against his lips, gentling softer kisses there while Zayn blindly flips Louis off.  He keeps fingers curled in Liam’s thick hair, working messy kisses down his jaw, over his throat and he forgets to stop.

He forgets this was just a lesson.

He bites sharply on Liam’s collarbone, loves the way Liam’s fingers tangle in his hair and drag over his scalp.  His lips bruise a pretty mark opposite of Liam’s birthmark, a kind tongue licking away the soreness and Liam shifts down to capture his lips again like Zayn’s been gone too long.

Like he’s been away _forever_ and Zayn adores that feeling.  He’s in love with the way Liam makes him feel missed even when they’re in the same room, meters away from each other, or those long looks he gives him from across a stage like _‘c’mere I need you next to me’_ fits right along all of those cheesy lyrics they sing.

Zayn drags his lips carelessly over Liam’s, infatuated with the feel of his swollen bottom lip and the crinkled eyes when Liam finally looks at him chokes a gasp from his lungs.  Liam cheats, grinning, lunging forward for another kiss that knocks their foreheads together but Zayn doesn’t run from it.  He permits Liam to guide them this time, all of his hard muscles liquefying and his lips going pliant for Liam’s tongue.

“Alright lads,” Louis says loudly, clapping his hands and it’s the only thing that – _regretfully_ – drags Liam away.  “The next part – “

Zayn almost misses it when Liam echoes a dissatisfied noise, looks over his shoulder at Louis with ridiculously pink cheeks and broad eyes.  Zayn busies himself with stroking a few fingers over the mark he’s left behind on Liam’s neck, the tendons that quiver under his touch.  He pretends not to notice the way Liam’s spare hand finds his, without looking, between the sheets and their fingers curl around each other long enough for Zayn to settle his breathing again.

He catches his fingers in Liam’s hair again, peeks around for the wounded look on Liam’s face when he says, “What do you mean?  There’s another part besides snogging?”

“C’mon, Li, you can’t just stop at snogging.  Your _lover_ ,” Louis drags the word out like it’s explicit, forbidden and he flicks a smile on his lips that makes Liam bite his own, “needs a little more than just a proper kiss.  They need to know they’re being as good to you as you’re going to be to them.”

“So poetic,” Harry teases, ruffling Louis’ hair.

“The man’s got a point,” Niall concurs and Zayn hates all of three of them, without question.

Louis sways in closer, cupping Liam’s chin with his sticky fingers from the beer.  He holds it tightly with this intensely endearing expression that subdues Liam’s squirming.

“Listen, Payner,” Louis starts, his voice dropping and there’s a hint of adoration there that Zayn won’t name for hours to come, “We all love you.  All of us.  We don’t want – man, you _need_ this, okay?  Just let us show you how great you are and let us teach you some things, okay?”

His blue eyes, sharp and bold like Zayn remembers them from almost two years ago during boot camp, stray over Zayn for a heartbeat and Zayn stills at the thought that most of that was _for him_ , not Liam.  And he tenses with a wrinkled nose when Louis mouths _‘he loves you’_ when Liam isn’t paying attention.

Zayn gives the hem of Liam’s shirt a small tug, noticing the dampness from the sweat sliding down his spine and he wants to lick it away or press it back into Liam’s skin with a comforting hand.

Liam goes with him, quietly, and Louis’ smirk kicks higher when Harry hooks a chin over his shoulder.  They trade little whispers that can’t be heard over the music but Zayn’s positive their plans to dominant the world suddenly include turning Liam into a sex slave.  Or something worse.

Liam tenses, again, shoulders going high before he stammers, “Like what?”

“Blowjob,” Niall howls before Louis can and there’s a pair of hands in his hair – an approving one from Louis, a calmer one from Harry – before Louis shoots them a gleaming smile.

“Perfect.”

“Fuck off,” Zayn hisses, curling an arm around Liam’s neck to pull him back.  He keeps his fingers in Liam’s hair, pressing soft kisses to Liam’s temple until Liam turns a little with a quirked up eyebrow, a _‘maybe’_ on his tongue that stops Zayn’s heart.

“ _Leeyum_ – “

Liam shrugs as if he’s considering it, as if this completely fucked plan of Louis’ suddenly sounds brilliant.  The corner of his mouth twitches upward, nervously, fingers stroking the inside of Zayn’s thigh again and his cock betrays him by pulsing, pushing bluntly against the zip of his chinos.

Niall clears his throat, loudly, grinning at them.  “Listen, Zayner,” he says kindly, huffing a breath when Zayn glares at him, “If you won’t, I will.”

Zayn can barely clench around his anger, that rage that growls restlessly in his belly when he looks at Niall –

 _Jealousy_ , he knows but he’s still so unwillingly to commit to it.

Not yet, at least.

“No,” he grumbles loud enough for the others to hear, dragging his nose along Liam’s neck.  There’s a heaviness hovering over his lungs and he cuddles just a tiny bit closer to Liam with this possessiveness he still can’t name but he catches a slow grin in his peripheral like Liam’s not against it.

“Brilliant,” Louis cackles, ignoring Zayn and hooking his chin over Niall’s shoulder.  “Nialler will be our backup blowjob lad.  Been practicing much, Horan?”

Niall gives them both a suggestive grin, wriggling his eyebrows and the shameless blush spread across his cheeks is oddly comical to Zayn.

“I said no,” he hisses with narrowed eyes directed at Louis rather than Niall.

Louis grins brightly, coastal blue eyes just slits from the size of it.  Zayn thinks he’s a right bastard, the way he flicks his fringe out of his eyes and tips his chin up arrogantly but he knows, they all know it’s just a disguise.  Louis is loud and obnoxious but he’s far from vengeful or deliberate with his actions.

“Calm your tits Zayner,” Louis huffs, fluffing Niall’s hair with his fingers and pressing into Harry’s chest while smiling.  “He’s just a backup if you’re too chicken shit to give our boy Leeymo a proper blowie.  Hazza can be our backup for the shag portion – “

“Um,” Harry swallows, lifting an eyebrow, “No thanks, Lou.”

Louis groans roughly, tilting his head back to give Harry an exasperated look that’s overdramatic and _completely Louis Tomlinson_.

“Oi, chill Haz,” Louis whines with sad eyes that always, always effect Harry, “A hole’s a hole, mate.”

Harry heaves out a giggle, pushing the stray pieces of Louis’ fringe from his eyes, chasing fingers down his cheek until he can curl them under Louis’ chin.

“Bullshit, Lou Bear,” Harry grins with this unearthly affection deep in his dragging voice, the kind that stirs heroic grins from Louis’ lips and makes Niall swoon in the background.  “It’s _Liam’s_ hole.”

Liam curls in on himself a little, chewing a corner of his lip, fingers stretching over the sheets and Zayn misses his touch already –

 _Pathetic_ , he thinks, pathetically lovesick and when did Liam become such a fixture in the regularity of his heartbeat?

“Can we maybe not have a chat about my hole, mates?  It’s a bit weird,” Liam stammers and Zayn watches the skin of his cheeks, lower even, turn a violent hue of pink in the aftermath –

And he waits for Liam to add _‘and that topic is off limits because I’m not like that – ‘_ but it doesn’t come and something swells, big and monstrous, inside of his chest until he’s lightheaded and wondering how far they could take this?

Louis’ indignant smirk from a distance distracts him enough to resolve his breathing, fingers tracing over Liam’s hip in this comforting manner rather than the one that wants to tug at this boy’s chinos and swallow him whole and feel Liam’s moans through the cock in his throat rather than by kisses.  He mouths, absently, at Liam’s neck instead, relearning his skin and the texture and the taste he only briefly knew.

Louis leans in, ruthless with the tilt of his grin and his wiggling eyebrows and Liam sucks in a sharp breath at how close he is now.

“Should we talk about your _dick_ instead?” Louis offers, dropping and lifting his eyes suggestively.

Niall giggles, shoves up on his knees and he’s too close with a hand on Louis’ shoulder for balance.

“Yeah,” he wheezes, “’cause it’s quite massive, mate.”

Louis’ got fingers teasing up the inside of Liam’s thigh and Niall’s pinching Liam’s hot cheeks and Zayn’s not sure how Liam’s skin can contain so much blush when his cock is that full, that thick against his thigh.  The imprint against the soft material of his chinos stands out, Louis’ scrambling fingers almost outlining it until both Liam and Zayn smack his hand away.  It’s a cheap tactic and very _Louis_ and Zayn watches the small twitch underneath the fabric, the swell of it –

And he’s certain they’ve all mistakenly stumbled into a room with morning wood or popped a semi after a show or have been caught with a stiffy between loose fingers during a private wank session except _nothing_ is private when it comes to these five boys.  _Personal space be damned_ , he’s always believed, ever since the bungalow and community showers to save hot water.

“Tommo,” Zayn admonishes over the _‘oh fuck’_ Liam moans, burying his face in Zayn’s neck and the buoyant, warm feeling that saturates his lungs is incredible.  He curves an arm around Liam’s shoulders, permits him to hide shamefully for a moment while Louis shoots him this certain kind of prideful look –

_‘Well done, lad.’_

He loses his next breath on the way Liam turns into him, looks up through his fair eyelashes with half-nervous eyes that shift dark, three-fifths curious.  He’s still holding his bottom lip between his teeth but Zayn can see flashes of a pink tongue, cheeks flushed with anxious fingers climbing Zayn’s chest to the nape of his neck.

Zayn cocks his head to the side, grinning with lips intending to ask _‘should we?’_ but he doesn’t need to.  Not with the way Liam inclines up and, instinctually, he leans down to meet him in the halfway space dividing them.

He tries to disguise his enthusiasm when he kisses Liam with fingers catching on the stubble along his jaw, tangling in his curls until they’re off Liam’s forehead and unruly.  There’s something golden and tranquil moving through his blood when, together, they shift to their knees and kiss like this is building towards something bigger.  He uses his tongue to stroke away the hesitance in Liam’s movements and tries to quiet a laugh when Liam nuzzles his nose to change the angle.

Zayn centers a hand to the small of Liam’s back, keeps them balanced, and Liam kisses a little softer when Zayn forgets what it’s like to be ten thousand meters from the ground even though they’re still anchored to the bed.

“Oh fuck,” Niall wheezes from behind.  “They’re gonna fucking do this, yeah?”

Zayn ignores him with curls twisted around his fingers, lips smeared wet by Liam’s tongue.

His hand, absently, strokes down Liam’s shirt, over the clenched muscles he can feel behind the material, and he almost outlines his cock but – _wait_.

Blush burns over his cheeks, a smile trying to strain over his lips while Liam’s biting at them in this playful manner that reminds him of that dumb feeling he’s always felt when he and Liam are sat around listing off their favorite Marvel films, the best scenes.  And a moan escapes his lips when Liam hitches his hips a little like he does on stage and his fingers feel the shape of him behind the soft fabric of his trousers.

“Hey, babe,” Zayn whispers when he feels the stiffness of Liam’s muscles while he rubs gently over his erection, fumbling a smile when Liam finally looks at him.

Liam swallows, eyebrows lifting, teeth almost catching his lip but Zayn intervenes, kissing him calm.

He thumbs over the shape, giggles at the first real twitch underneath his palm, the way Liam’s hips shift habitually to get closer to Zayn’s touch.  Liam’s heaving out these quiet, restrained pants and squeezing tightly at Zayn’s shoulders and the words in Zayn’s throat are knocked back down when Liam ducks his head to lather Zayn’s neck in carnal kisses.

Zayn knows Liam’s embarrassed and can barely look at him so he works him harder, carefully, with these slow, encouraging whispers in his ear.

“We could stop,” he offers, his voice choked when Liam bites the tight skin of his neck, drawing blood closer to the surface and he wonders what that mark will look like in the morning.  He stutters a breath, thumbing over the throbbing shaft, “Right here, I mean.  We don’t have to, y’know, go all out, man.  I swear s’cool.”

Liam presses his forehead to Zayn’s with a nervous laugh, crinkled eyes, those pink lips stretched into one of those dumb smiles that Zayn loves best when it’s on this boy.

They sway to something else in the background, the acoustics and gentle voice a little louder than the whispers from the other three in Zayn’s ear and he doesn’t know half of the words but he willing repeats _‘this is the start of something beautiful’_ just for the way Liam’s cheeks flush.  He admires the sienna in Liam’s eyes, fingertips pressing into the thin barrier of plaid separating their skin and he imagines shifting stardust between Liam’s ribs, between the hollows dividing those slats.

“Don’t wan’ stop,” Liam confesses, whispers when Zayn drags teeth down his neck.  He maps his lips around Liam’s birthmark, puckering kisses, licking it clean of excess saliva.  Liam giggles just outside of his ear, adding, “S’that a bad thing?”

Zayn breathes a laugh across a fresh bite, pulls back until they’re at eye level again and Liam’s getting a little taller, a little broader, more defined but he’s still _right here_.

Touchable, a stunning sight like crashing stars.

And Zayn thinks, with his curls tangled up like sleepy bedhair and cheeks that warm pink and eyes blown like an unexpected high, this is his favorite sight of all.

“Not at all, mate,” Zayn promises, tugging Liam forward for another kiss and he swears Liam whispers _‘and you are the words that I will sing’_ into his mouth between kisses, over his tongue.

They shuffle on their knees and Zayn wishes, fuck he _hopes_ they don’t look as clumsy as he feels but he knows they do.  His twitching fingers miss every other button down Liam’s shirt, twisting in the fabric when Liam’s lips are lost for too long.  He tries not to look like a smug bastard when he pulls his own shirt off but the collar gets caught around his jaw, Liam’s laugh muffled through the material as he helps him.  He ducks his head, tries to hide his blush in the shadows but the sleeves catch on his wrists and he’s nearly tipped over when Liam shrugs out of his button up like a right professional – gentle lift of the shoulders and a simple twist of the forearms that leaves the thin material somewhere crumpled on the floor.

There’s an extra set of hands helping them out of their chinos when they fumble for another kiss – sneaky Louis and Niall’s laughing heavy in his ear when he pulls the flaps open.  He makes an annoyed noise but keeps one hand in Liam’s curls, his spare one sneaking fingers beneath the waistband.

The tipping moon shines light through the clouds like veins underneath skin when they kick out of their chinos.  Louis settles Liam to the headboard and Niall knocks Zayn’s hair back into place with a _‘go get ‘im, bro’_ in his ear that Zayn tries to ignore because –

 _Holy fuck_.

Liam’s still shy, timidly splayed across the sheets with a mountain of pillows against his spine and his curls pressed to the headboard but he’s got a strong hand cupped around the outline of his cock in his Superman boxers.  He’s a scandalized seraph with the moon marking his muscles.  His skin is that fair shade of honey and he’s all limbs like Zayn remembers from that first night they spent skinny dipping back at the bungalow but the muscles are filling out in the most gorgeous places.  His skin is stretched tight but soft and the shadows catch along his face like an unnamed constellation.

Zayn watches him twist that saccharine bottom lip – swollen, bruised from _his_ kisses – between his teeth, a half-cocked grin on his lips that almost, almost says _‘I’m ready’_ but – _wait_.

He drags dull fingernails up the wispy hairs on Liam’s legs, crawls on his knees and playfully swats Liam’s hand off his cock to watch the way it twitches beneath the material.  He skims over the damp spots where his cock has leaked heavy on the cotton, grins when Liam sighs a satisfied noise.

“You owe me a round of Mario Kart after this, mate,” Zayn jokes, bowing to slick kisses along Liam’s tense stomach muscles.  He laughs along Liam’s skin when a trembling hand cups the back of his head – not to guide, just to anchor to.

“And a pack of smokes,” Liam teases back with a quiet stutter, legs shifting apart when Zayn tugs at the waistband.

“And maybe,” Zayn breathes, cocking his head back to look up through long eyelashes and Liam’s smile unsettles the oxygen drifting to his lungs.  He swallows, waits until Liam gently hitches his hips, grins, “A long walk around the city to all of those places you love – “

“ _You love_ ,” Liam corrects, smirking when his boxers snag around his thighs.

Zayn blushes, licks a messy trail to the skin under Liam’s belly button.  “All of those places _we_ fancy when I’m really, really nervous and you just – you just want to listen to me chat on and on.”

He looks up again, blinks at Liam for a long moment while his fingers slowly run up the firmness of Liam’s cock.  He presses a cheek to Liam’s belly, teeth gripping his lip and Liam –

He’s in awe.

It’s slightly emasculating and embarrassing and too much but he palms at the soft and hard flesh.  He listens for Liam’s breathing to quicken, a thumb dragging down the damp underside.  Liam twitches beneath him, a shaky laugh from his lips when Zayn smiles and teases the foreskin back.  Fingers spread the slickness from the slit around the head, glossing it and leaving it shiny while Liam tries to restrain his breathing.

“S’okay,” Zayn swears, kissing along Liam’s stomach until he relaxes.  “’m gonna make you feel – “

Liam squeaks out a noise like that first breath when you emerge from an ocean.  He wiggles beneath Zayn and Zayn shoves a grin into Liam’s skin.

Zayn strokes him in these soothingly gentle motions, gripping him a little harder.  He fits his fingers around the shaft like he does his own cock and tries to remember all of those silly things he does to arouse himself into a frenzy.

He feels the throb against his palm, stares down at the cotton candy pink head, the way it almost flushes a dark scarlet from the attention.  His fingers push the skin back around it, just a peek of slippery precome and pink flesh exposed and he almost forgets about the other three but –

Louis’ fingers string gently into his hair, over Liam’s, direct him and Niall gasps sharply when Louis whispers, “Go ahead, babe.  Think he’s ready.  He wants it.  Don’t leave a lad waiting too long, okay Li?  If you’re going to – “

There’s a noise caught between Zayn’s teeth – a proper _fuck off_ he can’t say right now – but he presses it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue and shifts lower.

He guides a few more kisses around Liam’s hipbone, silly little lyrics whispered over his skin before he ghosts his lips over the head.  Liam’s fingers find the back of his neck, still gentle, and he smiles with gratitude before parting his lips.

There’s an earthy smell about Liam right here – from the sweat, the confined clothing, a musk and boyish scent that washes out the clean rainwater aroma of his body wash.  It’s strong and distracting in ways Zayn’s unprepared for, lips catching around the wet head.

He squeezes at Liam’s thigh with a hand, his unused one palming himself through his briefs to alleviate some of the delightfully beautiful pressure while his tongue licks away all of the sloppy precome.  There’s a saltiness along the head, a little further down from the dried precome that Zayn gravitates to.  It’s a little bitter on his tongue, down his throat but he slurps messily around the tip with a stretched smile.

Liam’s hips twitch once, twice and Zayn can feel the way he’s straining his muscles to not buck up into his mouth.  He runs soothing strokes along Liam’s hip, swallows before slipping lower.

Zayn pulls off with a heavy breath and he’s out of practice.  He’s only really done this a couple of times before – mainly buzzed on cheap beers with Danny’s fingers fucking his hair and they forget about it in the morning – and he can’t imagine being bloody brilliant at it but the way Liam stares at him makes him blush, unnerves all of the bits of confidence he’s been collecting between kisses and deep breaths.

“Relax, Li,” Louis instructs, twisting fingers in those soft curls.

“Christ,” Niall breathes, his voice scratchy and raw now, “Look at bloody hard he is for it.  He’s fucked outta his mind, bro.”

Zayn blinks to focus his vision and he doesn’t remember when Louis wedged in next to Liam or how Harry ended up at the foot of the bed, helping Zayn out of his stretched briefs or why Niall is leaning over the side of the bed, anxiously rubbing himself off against the zip of his jeans but he ignores it all to lick feverishly around Liam’s shaft.

“He’s good, right?”

Zayn shuts his eyes on the sound of Louis’ voice, hollowing his cheeks when he takes Liam back in to shadow out the blush he knows is there.

Liam hums his approval, hips stuttering again and it’s enough for Zayn.  He sucks a little louder, slides a little further, swallows just before Liam’s cock hits the back of his throat.  The arousal in is veins pricks like snapping fires in the dark, like the embers, like the center of a flaming coal.

Fingers crash like waves in his hair, easing him back before he chokes.  They belong to Liam – so soft and calloused and running that same lazy pattern along his scalp they always do when they’re knocking around in bed together during a film – and Zayn pushes up against them with a pleased sigh.

He stretches his jaw at all of Liam’s little gasps, his indications that this is – he doesn’t have a word for it.

He thinks, happily, he doesn’t need one.

It’s a lightheaded feeling, dizzy, lips stretched and throat muscles begging for more and he twists his fingers around the shaft to slick the head with more spit.  He loves the dribble of precome and wetness between his fingers, making his uneven strokes along the base glide so much easier.

“Oh fuck,” Liam groans, thighs shaking.

Zayn swallows him back quickly, squeezes his eyes until tears prick out and stick to his eyelashes.  He keeps going with a mantra in his head – _relax, relax, fucking_ relax _you dolt_ – until the head slides uncomfortably into his throat and, with an uneasy breath, he holds it there.

Louis coos while Niall moans filthily and the only noise he focuses on is Liam’s whimpering, the pitchy sound caught at the back of his throat when Zayn swallows.

Zayn strokes at his hip again, ignoring the way his own cock keeps shifting along the sheets, sticking to the cotton.  He pulls off until the head sits on his tongue and gives Liam an encouraging look, a _‘fuck it, you know you want to’_ with a clumsy smile until Liam whines and complies.

He fucks the head over Zayn’s tongue, fingers cupping the nape of Zayn’s neck to keep him balanced before he thrusts a little deeper.  His thighs drag apart on the bed, feet flat to find the right angle and Zayn opens his throat to the invasion.

“Like that?” Liam asks, a little bolder, saliva and precome sliding like honey down his shaft when his hips draw back.

Zayn slurps and swallows and sucks eagerly with a stiff nod.

“A little harder?”

“Deeper,” Zayn chokes, blinking away the prickly tears that cling to his eyelashes.

Liam muffles a whine against his forearm with shameless blush freckled on his cheeks.

“Oi, fuck, Nialler,” Louis moans with wide, blown eyes and fingers scrambling like fireflies over the sheets for something to hold onto.  “Do y’see that?  Little Malik is – fuck, he’s a _beast_.”

Niall chuckles, a pale hand still cupping his crotch before winking at Zayn.

“Hazza – “

“Trying not to look, cheers,” Harry huffs and if Zayn was talented enough, he’d keep Liam’s cock in his throat while glancing over his shoulder to shoot Harry a smug look but, instead, he shuts his eyes and closes his throat on the sharp keens trying to claw their way out.

Liam’s moans are almost appalling.  He’s nearly mortified by his own sounds and Zayn drifts on the sweet crescendo they echo against the hotel walls.

He feels weightless, only drug back down by Liam’s fingers twisting around his hair, pulling him off to shyly tap the head along Zayn’s outstretched tongue.  It smacks wetly against one of Zayn’s cheeks before Zayn catches it with his tongue again.  It’s playful and Zayn can barely see the carnal look in Liam’s eyes when they’re crinkled, when Liam’s giggling like a child.

“Twat,” Zayn laughs back, swallowing around the head again.

Liam groans, whines loud enough to drown out the background music and the sweat along Zayn’s temple trickles down to his cheekbones.

He feels Liam squirm when he presses his hips back to the mattress, drags up onto his knees to suck Liam properly.  His fingers twist up as his lips sink lower and they meet in the middle of Liam’s shaft for an incredible tremble.  He can tell Liam’s close – his precome thicker, his voice deeper – and he laves around the head until the sticky precome leaves a trail along his chin.

“Watch him, Li,” Louis encourages and Zayn _can’t_ look.

He knows he’ll rut against the soft sheets for the friction and come messily and almost miss the way Liam tastes –

 _Almost_.

“Gonna come, Leeymo?  Zayner here teaching you some brilliant things?” Louis teases but his voice is gentle, almost leading like Liam is so lost on this.

Like he’s lost on _Zayn_.

Liam keens, hips shifting again, fingers pinching into the sheets.

“Think you can come and,” Louis starts, slowly like he’s still trying to convince Liam.  Like this is just another step in some insanely manic plan of his.  And his voice, softer and caring goes quieter for, “Think you’ll nut off and then maybe let him fuck you?  Maybe he can show you something else you might quite like?”

There’s an echo of noise in between the static that sounds like Liam’s soft moan, his voice teetering on a _‘yes’_ that he can’t quite say and Zayn, absently, replies with a pleading whimper because –

 _Yes_.

Bloody fucking yes.

His eyelashes flutter along his cheeks, Liam’s fingers tugging to pull him off like a warning.  He gasps, throat too raw to properly swallow.  His lips mouth around Liam’s thighs, his tongue catching the shivers on the inside as he strokes Liam off and he can’t finish him off like this.

 _He can’t_.

“Oh Zayn,” Liam swoons, muscles contracting.  He shoves the fringe out of Zayn’s face and swivels his hips to match Zayn’s strokes.

His spine arches sharply and Zayn shuts his eyes, leans up and in for the taste.  He can see the moon and the stars and a fucking meteor shower behind his eyelids when Liam spills messily onto his knuckles, across his lips.  He drags his tongue over the slit, licking away thick spurts.  It leaks into his mouth, Liam shaking and fisting the sheets, tugging at Zayn’s hair.

He holds it on his tongue, the thickness and it’s a sharp flavor like early pears that he won’t quite forget.

“Malik, you’re crazy sick,” Louis cheers, breathless.

Zayn rolls away, lungs straining for air, looking up at Niall’s lazy grin.  Pale fingers brush through his hair, everything upside down and turned inside out and his gravity is nonexistent until Liam crawls over him, straddling his hips.

“You’re a monster, Zee,” Niall smirks with buoyant cheeks stained scarlet and he misses all of the words spilling out of Harry’s mouth when Liam, bashfully, inclines to kiss him.

There’s a tepidness to Liam’s kisses now that leaves him feeling bare.  They stretch against each other, mercury in a glass, and Zayn tries not to whimper when Liam licks the come from his lips before shoving it into his mouth with a tender tongue.

It’s _filthy_ and new and a mountain of adjectives he wants to use but he settles for _extraordinary_ when he swallows Liam’s come and smiles sheepishly into another kiss.

“You were,” Liam whispers against his mouth, shameless, “absolutely ace, man.  Reckon I’ve never had a blowjob like that before, y’know?”

Zayn grins, still trapped in that gossamer state between the clouds.

He pulls fingers through Liam’s damp curls, finds that soft spot behind his ear with his thumb and drags Liam back down for stupidly happy kisses.

“It’s all good, mate,” Zayn promises, his chest still heavy from the breath he hasn’t quite caught.

Liam nuzzles his nose in a move that could be disguised as an accident but Liam’s eyes, that quiet honey, speak otherwise.  It’s adorable and a million other things Zayn’s never wanted to associate with Liam but –

Liam is the exception to every little guideline Zayn has been taught when it comes to boys and falling a little head over heels.

“And now,” Louis says in this voice reminiscent of those stupid chat show hosts with an outstretched hand.

He’s like a magician with an incredible control over sleight of hand because, remarkably, he’s holding out a foiled condom and premium brand lube and –

“The bloke at the drug store swore this is top-quality stuff,” Louis promises, shoving down next to them on the bed.  “Says it’s the best brand and – “

“And how does _he_ know it’s the best?” Harry asks with an arched eyebrow, arms folded high on his chest.

“Oh Styles,” Louis sings, smiling bashfully, “I’m still saving all the best product and rose petals and a personal serenade from John Mayer for your maddeningly beautiful descent into lad on lad sexy time.”

“Keep holding your breath,” Harry jokes, shaking his head until his curls flop, move loosely and almost over his eyes.

“Leave it t’ya Tommo to flirt yer way into a box of rubbers and a lifetime supply of lubricant,” Niall laughs, reaching out to scrub fingers through Louis’ loose hair.

Louis shoots him a proud smile, knocking his shoulders with Zayn’s when Liam goes tense above him.

“Care to give it a go, Zayner?”

Zayn’s brow wrinkles and he twists a little toward Liam, still above him with his lip caught again and this easy nervousness that Zayn’s suddenly grown accustom to.  There’s something softer swaying in the background, old Marvin Gaye or something by Donny Hathaway, and their fingers have absently twined around each other between the sheets above Zayn’s head.

Liam looks considering, sneaking glances toward Louis hand and Zayn’s eyes and then repeat.

Zayn watches the lift of his chest, the tight string of muscles around his shoulders, the way Liam’s unconsciously rocking against the hard line of Zayn’s cock like he’s thinking it over.

It’s a daft idea, really.  Snogging and blowjobs are innocent enough – for five boys who’ve never done more than walk in on each other with some nameless shag after the competition when _personal space_ no longer existed – but this was toeing too far along the deep end.

 _Intimate_ , he thinks and the reason behind all of his best wet dreams but still.

He thinks it’s between their distracting breathing and fingers brushing over knuckles and euphoric music in the distilled background that Liam fumbles out a grin, a _‘yes’_ that’s barely heard but Zayn _feels_ it in the warmness of the anxious kiss Liam presses to Zayn’s lips.

Zayn swallows, blinks back at Liam and stretches all of the endorphins in his bloodstream until he can’t contain the swell.

It’s an unconscious thing – the way they rearrange themselves on the bed with Liam pressed into the sheets, Zayn between his bent knees, Harry petting Liam’s hair while Niall leans on the edge of the bed and Louis spills a generous amount of lube across the linen and Zayn’s fingers.  It’s this silent communication they’ve always had between each other, the looks and the touches and the _‘everyone keep calm’_ Louis echoed backstage before every performance.

There’s an unrestrainable hesitance in Liam’s expression, cheeks flushed bright, lip bitten raw.  He’s dragging fingers through the sheets and glancing around with a lowered brow.  His feet shift around Zayn’s hips until Zayn considers, more than once, changing his mind.

Until he leans down, fingers gently rubbing over Liam’s hole, to press a slow kiss to Liam’s lips.

“We don’t have’ta,” Zayn promises, foreheads pressed together, “Just don’t – don’t do summat you’ll regret, okay?”

Liam smiles into another kiss, legs going wider, everything slowly relaxing.

“C’mon, man,” he breathes, tensing only a little when Zayn adds pressure, “How could I?  With you, I mean.  You’re like – you’re my best mate.  You’re – “

Zayn kisses him to drown out the rest.

He kisses the _‘you too’_ he wants to say into Liam’s mouth because they’re no longer in that definable stage between friends and something else.

But, on the inside and hot against his lungs and buried in every chamber of his heart, he’s begging to be _something else_.

There’s supposed to be some linear logic behind all of his actions or a thought process but when Liam exhales a heavy noise, knees shifting apart, and Zayn sinks into his first knuckle, he thinks this vulnerable side of Liam destroys all method and reason.

It’s a nice fall into the madness.

Liam gasps sharply when Zayn sinks further and he’s incredibly tight around Zayn’s finger, muscles quivering and adjusting.  He buries his face along Liam’s jaw, kissing soft words of encouragement there to avoid the impressed look Louis shoots him or the heavy pants Niall keeps releasing or just to be closer, like Harry is, with his fingers still working through Liam’s hair.

“Relax,” he says almost in unison with Harry, gentler until Liam does.

Liam relaxes and goes slack and Zayn fucks him open with one finger, watching the heat twist around Liam’s skin until he’s pink and sweaty and euphoric.

“I reckon we should play some sweet tunes.  A little Celine or John Legend?” Niall offers with a nervous laugh.

“Shut it Horan,” Louis hisses, eyes still focused on the stretch of Liam’s hole every time Zayn pushes back in.

Zayn catches spare lube slipping out of Liam’s hole, smeared across the back of his thigh and slicks up more fingers to slide a second one inside of Liam.  He smiles into his own shoulder, charting unexplored pieces of Liam with his fingers, twisting and reshaping his muscles momentarily.

Fingers catch tightly around his forearm, squeezing at the crossed fingers inked on the outside, and Zayn blinks down at Liam as he crooks his fingers and –

 _Remarkable_.

It’s like _sudden impact_ , the glaze of Liam’s eyes, the round, dark shape of them when Zayn gently brushes over the small bundle of nerves deep in Liam.  He’s overwhelmed, trembling, bruising his bottom lip to restrain the husky breaths swirling in his throat.  Zayn leans down to coax Liam’s mouth open with a tongue, with another thrust of his fingers that catch Liam off guard in the most beautifully carnivorous way.

“Zayn,” Liam gasps into his mouth, squeezing tighter around his fingers and pinching at the skin of his forearm.

Zayn wants the bruises, wants tomorrow to bring _Liam_ -shaped marks across his arms, cranberry fingerprints left behind in their aftermath.

Their – it’s still nameless and a little bit sweet and completely enthralling.

“Oi, don’t be rude,” Louis hisses, swatting at Zayn’s shoulder until he guiltily draws back, “Give us a bit of a show, Malik.”

Zayn groans out his frustration, keeping his eyes on Liam’s stunned expression.  There’s a startling realization flushing Liam’s skin, fingers twisted into the sheets, pulling like a tug of war.  His toes curl into the soft, soft cotton and Zayn licks out a smirk when his cock starts to fatten up again.

“Feel good, babe?” he whispers, his voice dark around Louis and Niall’s loud chatting.

Liam winces with a rooted smile that’s lopsided and endearing and haphazard all at once.

Zayn fastens a few kisses to Liam’s bent knee and curves his fingers again for the –

“Oh _Christ_ ,” Liam whimpers, twisting his face away to scrub the blush along the sheets.

His cock is shiny, wet, leaking across his stomach and it has a fascinating curve, the foreskin completely drawn back, the tip a morning view pink.  His hips roll involuntarily until he’s pushing back on Zayn’s fingers.  It’s a silent plea, rounded out by quiet whines and achy gasps.

Harry grins, tugs on Liam’s hair until his head turns and he’s focused on Zayn again.  He’s writhing on the sheets and his cock keeps twitching off his belly, throbbing upward with precome pooling around the slit.  His loose tongue slicks the moans across his raw lips and Zayn, fuck Zayn just want to kiss him and finger him loud and bring him off with just that – lips and fingers.

His cock sits heavy between his legs when Louis draws up, too close, grinning in Zayn’s peripheral.

“That’s it, babe,” Louis huffs shamelessly when Zayn adds a third finger, “He’s almost there.  Almost.”

“Such a romantic,” Harry sighs, smiling goofily at Louis when he shoots him an incredulous look.

“Such a twat,” Louis argues back with a put upon smile that only they share, “Unlike you, ‘m just trying to make sure they do this proper.”

Harry makes a face, crinkled and wrinkled edges before he flips Louis off.  “Fuck off, darling, I’ve never done this and – “

“Not even to yourself?” Louis challenges with a sharp eyebrow flicked upward, blue eyes like a ravenous midnight.  “C’mon, Haz, y’know y’have.  In a long hot bath ‘cause you were curious and remember how I told you how bloody fantastic it feels when you push in real _deep_ , extra soft – “

Harry makes a startled noise that cuts under the breathy moan Liam releases when Zayn pushes down on his prostate again and Zayn swears they’re all bastards, Liam too, for ever silently agreeing to any of this.

But he watches the shiny sweat glossing Liam’s heaving chest, the muscles constructed into a tight build and his abdominals go taut from exertion, from the saturated moans he’s still restraining.

Zayn slides his fingers out, biting into a corner of his bottom lip when Liam gazes up at the ceiling rather than him.  His breathing is still uneven, his hole squeezing at nothing now that it’s empty.  Fingers still tug at the sheets, the muscles in Liam’s forearm standing out against tan skin.

“Nialler – condom,” Louis demands, still splayed across Zayn’s spine with a chin over his shoulder.

“Um,” Niall pauses, thumbing the outline of his cock with summer pink cheeks, twilight dark blue eyes.  “M’not sure where ye left it, bro.  They were just – I mean.  Bloody _fuck_ , these two.  S’crazy, mate.”

Louis huffs his annoyance, picking apart the sheets and the fluffy duvet and there’s an irrational moan from Liam’s lips before he tugs Zayn down to his mouth.

He’s learned the taste of Liam’s tongue, the shape of his teeth, the way he smiles when he’s still not sure he’s doing it right and Zayn urgently wants to whisper _‘you’re beautiful, I thought I told you, just do what you like man’_ into the hollows of his hot mouth until that confidence Liam shows on stage crawls under his skin in moments like this –

And it’s then, unexpectedly, that he realizes that this is the kind of moment where words don’t need to exist.  Where you fall feet, head, chest, shoulders in love with someone.

“Just do it,” Liam whispers against his lips, a shaky hand pressed warmly to Zayn’s cheek.  “Just – um, _fuck_.  Go without the rubber, mate.  Just like, y’know, go bare.”

Zayn swallows, nodding gently.  He wants to argue the merits of poor decision making and the _‘it’ll get really messy Li, please, just wait until we find another_ _one’_ but Liam still looks lost, vulnerable, waiting on a hero to –

Waiting on _Zayn_.

“You sure, babe?” Zayn asks between rushed kisses, grinding the hard line of his cock to the cleft of Liam’s arse.

Liam groans, shifts back towards him, tugs impatient fingers through Zayn’s thick hair.

“Y’think you can handle it, Li?  My cock?  ‘Cause I’m gonna be inside you, so fucking deep man,” Zayn swears, the tip almost catching on Liam’s stretched hole.  He bites along Liam’s lip, soothes the flesh with his tongue.

“I – I dunno,” Liam stammers, eyes falling shut when Zayn slicks himself up with the lube Louis nervously passes him.  “But I’m gonna try.  Like, man, I’m gonna _try_ ‘cause I want it.”

“Say it.”

The throb of Liam’s throat when he smiles encourages Zayn, fingers scratching down his jaw and he’s lining himself up, skimming the wet head along Liam’s hole but never sliding in.

“C’mon, babe, _say it_.”

Liam nips nervously at his lip and he looks shy, sailing across the stars without navigation.

“Fuck, Li,” Louis breathes, his voice stripped raw and he’s got fingers edging Liam’s thighs apart while Niall carefully tucks a pillow under his hips and Harry’s whispering gentleness into Liam’s ear until –

“Just say it, mate,” Niall begs.

Liam groans, sways back until the head of Zayn’s cock is pressed to his hole and this is insane.  It’s fucking _ridiculous_ but Liam exhales sweetly, thumbing over the yin-yang stitched on Zayn’s other arm like a good luck charm.

“I want your _cock_ , babe,” Liam admits, still a little restrained but it’s the layers under his voice that Zayn listens for.

The ones that plead _‘I want the world and you can give it to me’_ and Zayn nudges gently until Liam gasps, the head stretching the ring of his hole wide.

He’s careful, completely gentle as he slides his cock in, just the tip.  He rocks his hips in this steady motion, Liam pliant beneath him with this amazed expression and swallowed grunts.  It rips up his spine, shredded velvet between scissor blades, as he slides in and drags out.  It’s an exquisite bliss he wishes he could pen to paper but, instead, he anchors himself above Liam with knuckles pressed to the sheets on either side of his head.

His hips move in a timid motion, fighting this need to fuck Liam madly just to ease him open until he’s all stretched out around the root of Zayn’s cock.  He watches Liam’s skin flush – red around his shoulders, pink across his cheeks, a subtle mixture down his chest – and listens for the little sounds Liam makes over all of their deep breaths echoing in the room.

There’s a slow anticipation across Liam’s face when Zayn slides all the way in.  He’s incredibly tight around Zayn, gasping for oxygen until Zayn rocks his hips, dragging halfway out.  He’s got heavy eyelids and Zayn twists a little to press the wiry hairs around his cock to Liam’s arse when he’s deep and –

He’s only ever done this once.  Some lad from back home, somewhere during the holiday break after the competition and in-between all of Liam’s text about missing him and the rapid change from _‘it’s Zayn Malik now, not Zain, and your world is going to change for the better with these four boys as your orbit.’_   Just a dusty old bedroom, fucking into a boy he remembers from school with increasingly loud whimpers and the condom rolled halfway down Zayn’s dick afterwards from the heavy come sitting at the tip.

“Christ, Zayner,” Louis groans and that’s all it takes.

He finds a smooth rhythm, pushing in and sliding out until Liam is wiggling against the sheets.  Until he’s aching and loud, fuck, he’s in _love_ with this feeling.  His spine arches and he fucks back onto Zayn’s cock and they share these little gazes until it’s tragic.  Until they’re the stupidly redundant definition of _‘star-crossed lovers’_ and Zayn’s always hated descriptions like that.

They’re fucking _supernovas_ in a tiny galaxy and Zayn propels himself into Liam on that thought alone.

Liam squirms from the pressure, from the way Zayn’s cock is pressed against his prostate when he’s not even trying.  Goosebumps chase up his skin, little freckles that Zayn leans down to kiss away with a red mouth.

The sheets tangle around their feet and Zayn finds a pace that’s deliberately fast, a little rough, incredibly _perfect_ when it draws up these weak moans from Liam’s chest.  Subtle whimpers like he’s begging.  He fucks into Liam with this unrestrained desperation that knocks about the pillows on the bed and wrinkles the sheets and slicks across their skin until the collision is louder than the Bruno Mars in the distance.

“You good?” Zayn asks between uncontrollable pants, husky moans.

Liam nods with a dopey smile like he’s drugged.  No, he’s _sedated_ by Zayn’s cock.  He’s in between worlds, heaven and earth, and he’s high on this feeling.

“More,” Liam whimpers, circling his legs around Zayn’s waist, feet hooking across his spine.  “Please.”

Zayn lets out a strangled noise that it’s insanely embarrassing but Liam only grins, fingers tickling the sweat across the nape of his neck to pull Zayn closer, deeper.

“Y’can take it?”

Liam groans, shameless, rutting back against the slide of Zayn’s cock until they’re synchronized –

And there’s no substituting this.  They’re drowning, panicked at the way the undertow drags them lower.

“Think Leeymo likes it rough,” Louis chuckles, a dull noise around their colliding bodies.

“Faster,” Niall encourages with a needy voice.  “C’mon Zaynie – wreck him.”

“Idiots,” Harry sighs against Liam’s ear, shifting on the sheets.

“Piss off,” Zayn groans, eyes steadying on Liam’s blissful gaze.

Zayn slams into him until the bed shakes, thumps against the wall.  He’s not sure what’s louder – Liam’s encouraging groans, his deep exhales, Louis’ gasps or Niall’s whines in the distance.  The pressure is building all along his spine, matchstick hot in his belly and it almost consumes him as he rocks up into Liam.

Liam, with this overwhelmed expression that crinkles his brow and leaves his wet mouth open, tips his head back until it’s parallel with the bend of his spine and shudders when Zayn fucks along his prostate for a few jagged thrusts.  He’s got a sweaty palm between them now, casually stroking his dick until his fingers are shiny and the skin around the shaft looks slick while his spare hand –

He’s almost distracted by how tight Liam is around him, muscles stretched but still recoiling at the hot slide of Zayn’s cock.  He’s almost, almost blinded by the fuzziness around his eyes but he focuses on Liam’s auxiliary hand.  He _glares_ at Harry’s long fingers tangled with Liam’s like a security blanket and, _yes_ , this is jealousy.

This is maddening and that sharp heat across his chest isn’t from the sex.

It’s from the disappointment.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, knocking Zayn’s chin up with extra fingers until they’re staring at each other.

Zayn breathes a grunt, jerks back and thrusts into Liam harder because he’s reduced to dominance and _‘this is mine, Harry Styles, fuck off.’_

Harry smiles, infinitely affectionate and understanding in ways Zayn hates.

“Don’t worry, mate,” he whispers in that morning coffee deep voice that comforts all of them in the middle of the night when they’re too afraid to be brave, “He’s completely into you; what you’re doing to him, bro.  Just look at him.”

Zayn does.

He loses his breath on the darkness in Liam’s eyes, the vulnerable twist of his bottom lip, the color of his cheeks, the softness where everything is supposed to be hard.  He looks dazed but perpetually speechless by this moment.

By _Zayn_.  Just by Zayn.

Zayn buries his smile in the crook of Liam’s neck, listens to his scandalized groans when Zayn slams into him repeatedly from this new angle.  He feels a pair of hands in his hair and he doesn’t care who they belong to because he’s concentrating on the heat, the tightness, the way he’s creating this universe inside of Liam.

He can’t find a rhythm between fast and slow, careless with his thrusts for a moment.  He bites at the tendons in Liam’s neck, licks them calm, breathing erratically into Liam’s skin.

“Can you,” Liam mumbles, _pleads_ when Zayn changes the angle before pushing at Zayn’s shoulder.  “Can you look at me when you come, babe?”

His heart catches on an inhale, climbs his throat.  Louis croons in the background like a young Elton John while Harry swoons, tugging his fingers free of Liam’s to climb off the bed and Zayn blinks at him for a few breaths until this undeniably happy smile stretches his lips.

“Just so,” Zayn moans, stretching Liam wider with his cock, “You’re just so – like you’re incredible and so fucking tight, Li, babe.”

Liam clenches around him and Zayn tricks his hips into position to push down before a whispered _‘I think it’d be sick, if later, you’d show me how brilliant you were are at fucking me open’_ squeezes a moan from Liam’s chest, his come spilling over his fingers and soaking his belly.

Zayn watches with a grin, the way the long streams squirt across shiny tan skin.  The way Liam seems to come with whines and whimpers and husky moans, thumbing along the head when he shoots further up his chest.  He trembles around Zayn, breathless, and Zayn fucks him through it until he’s shoved deep, spilling inside of Liam.

He presses kisses to Liam’s temple, laid bare across him with the soft whisper of the air conditioning unit cooling their skin and everything is a raw pink between fingertips and ankles.  Liam’s got fingers in his hair, a smile rubbed into his shoulder and they only notice the others – because this is nirvana and this is euphoria and tranquil – when the bed shifts around them.

“I think we should,” Louis pants with his hair wrecked and dark eyes and he looks completely startled, speechless, “Yeah.  _Wow_.  Think we should – “

He curls a protective arm around Harry’s waist, tugging him towards the door until they’re stumbling and blinking rapidly at Zayn stretched across Liam, between his legs.

“Better get Haz off to bed,” Louis suggests, still swallowing around his pants.  “Early morning, right lads?  Harry’s quite the miserable twat when he doesn’t have proper sleep.”

Harry elbows him roughly, smiling fondly down at them before nodding.

“I can’t believe we watched that.”

“ _Filmed_ that, bro,” Niall heaves out, shaking his phone between pale fingers with a mischievous grin that he nicked off of Louis.

He drags a spare hand through his scattered blonde hair, cheeks still that sunburn red while snapping off a picture of their sweat-slick skin pressed together in this collision of colors.

“You two were hot.  Fuck, I need’a good wank and t’ nut off on a Katy Perry poster,” he adds from the doorway, shoving Harry and Louis out with a promising smile and a silent _‘good job lads’_ that Zayn turns away from to sniff at Liam’s neck, to breathe in his scent scratched into Liam’s skin now.

 

/*/

 

_‘I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin.’_

 

/*/

 

They’re so quiet afterwards, stretched across the sheets, pulled apart from end to end.

But somewhere, in the middle of a typhoon of unsaid words and dazed looks, their fingertips brush across the divide.  They twist and twine around each other and Zayn can’t help the way he stares at Liam until he smiles.

He can’t quite focus with Liam looking so soft and drunk and fond.

Instead, they hesitantly crawl closer until their ankles are pressed together, until Zayn can lick all the wounds his teeth left behind, until Liam isn’t shy or nervous or awkward.

Until Liam grins and doesn’t pat Zayn on the shoulder with a _‘good job.’_   He thumbs Zayn’s ribs and gives him a wide-eyed look like this might’ve been incredible.

It might’ve been a little more than just a few lessons or teaching Liam how to be a better lover for someone else.  Someone other than Zayn.

And Zayn feels unmistakably defenseless, exposed even though they’re both naked and apprehensive.  He’s ready for the ache or the rejection or the words that will leave him broody, ruined, a thunderstorm in the middle of a quiet morning.

“Was good,” Liam promises softly with that dopey grin he reserves for silly radio interviews.

Zayn smirks, his heart fluttering, pushes closer.

“Not exactly what I expected,” Liam laughs and Zayn joins him with crinkled eyes, a wrinkled mouth stretched out with his tongue pressed against his teeth.  “Can’t exactly go ‘round shagging girls like _that_ – “

“Some are into it,” Zayn teases, trying to still his heart because –

 _Oh_.

 _Danielle_ , right?

Liam shakes his head, still smiling.  His spare fingers drag through Zayn’s hair, across his scalp like he loves and Liam, stupidly, kisses his cheek messily like he does when Zayn says something brilliant that he doesn’t quite understand but wants to.

For Zayn, he wants to.

“Think I’d prefer try it out on,” Liam pauses, ducking his head with shades of pink smeared across his cheeks, his damp curls falling into his eyes when he looks up.  “Keep it between us, yeah?”

Zayn nods, biting on his lip.

Liam giggles, rolling onto his stomach with a sharp line of sweat down the stretch of his spine.

“Not like a secret, mate,” Liam promises, gentler until something breaks across Zayn’s face – _relief_.  “Just a – kinda wanna make it _our_ thing.  What we do.”

“Like again?”

Liam huffs a laugh, his voice rusted and smoky and he still looks drugged out but willing.

“D’you think, I dunno, maybe,” he shrugs, punching at Zayn’s shoulder and _there_.

 _Right there_.

It’s still just him and Liam.

Nothing’s changed – well, not completely.

“Don’t say anything, you donut,” Liam sighs with an effortless affection swelling through his words.  He squeezes around Zayn’s fingers, pushes to his knees with one arm, his muscles twisting and pulsing before he tugs Zayn with him off the bed.

“Don’t ruin the mood,” he says over his shoulder with a grin, pulling Zayn into the bathroom and Zayn doesn’t think he has the words to tell him.

Not yet but he’s willing to wait.

 

/*/

 

_‘I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you’_

 

/*/

 

The glass shower is spectacular and he only half-notices it between their embarrassingly similar smiles and long gazes under the hot waterfall above them.  Their hands, confident now, slick soap across each other’s skin and he tangles his fingers in Liam’s soaked curls with minty shampoo that opens his senses and drips clarity through his system until –

He’s never been seasick but the unsteady motion of his heart and this feeling swallowing his marrow that Liam might feel it too is overcoming.

They sputter under the water to wash away the sweat and come and soap, Zayn grinning and biting Liam’s shoulder when he tilts Liam’s head back to scrub out the shampoo.  He wears his heart high on his sleeve, foolishly, when Liam turns and grips strong hands to Zayn’s waist.

“Quite nice, right?” Liam asks with a loose tongue that swears to say so much more but he doesn’t.

He smiles goofily, pushes in closer until their hips knock, and Zayn shudders out a breath with achingly sweet pink cheeks.

Liam laughs at him and Zayn sneaks two fingers across Liam’s still open hole in retaliation –

And to feel the way it quivers, the way Liam bites on his lip like he’d be willing to do this again.

He blinks through the steam and the heavy drops weighing down his eyelashes to watch a huge grin spread over Liam’s pink lips, the ones that match his cheeks in color and softness.  And, when he schools his breathing, he can’t help the way his fingers twist into those messy, wet curls and the way he leans up until their noses brush just for a closer view and –

The words that have been clouding his throat and shaping themselves on his tongue feel just right for this moment but he hesitates because, no, this was just _teaching_ him, remember?

But Liam cocks his head as if to say _‘hey, it’s just you and me and this big bad world won’t stop us’_ and Zayn sighs against the throb of his heart when wrinkled fingertips run the length of his cheek.

His mouth catches pelting drops of soothing water while Liam fingers his way over the few tattoos inked to Zayn’s skin.  They smile haphazardly like they can’t help themselves and Zayn spits a stream of water into Liam’s face with a tickling giggle.  He yelps when Liam’s fingers catch his waist and sneak along the line of his arse.

“Bastard,” Liam grins, stealing fingers between his cheeks and –

Zayn sighs happily with the tips brush over his hole and he considers letting Liam finger him off, right here.

He presses their foreheads together, noses skimming in this delightfully playful but intimate manner, and he exhales something shaky from his lungs before he stammers, “ _You_.  I mean – hey, it’s you.  And I was going to ask you, maybe _tell you_ but – this is insane, man.”

Liam pulls back, just a little, with his teeth fit around his bottom lip and that little tilt to his head like he’s questioning, like Zayn makes no sense leaves Zayn apprehensive but then strong fingers press firmly into the small of his back to draw him closer.

Zayn swallows, trying to mimic Liam with a flick of his head to drag the fringe out of his vision and he’s met with crinkled eyes, a wide smile, a longing he can’t name.

“It’s just that,” Zayn tries again, weaker, “I know she is – I mean, she’s fit, right?  And this was all good fun, right?  I suppose it’d be proper of me – “

Liam giggles, thumbs at Zayn’s lips until he’s stunned quiet.

“Zayn,” he says, patiently, rocking on his heels and twisting them further under the pelting water and just the rough sound of his voice makes Zayn want to squirm away but he can’t.

He _won’t_.

Liam smiles at all of Zayn’s little twitches, nudging knuckles under his jaw.  “Doesn’t really matter, does it now?  She’s just – I’m not all that interested.”

“No?”

Liam shakes his head, still grinning.  “Not when I really think about it.  Not when I’ve got a best mate like you and, it’s quite odd because we’ve already shagged and all I keep thinking about is how I want to take you out on a proper first date.”

Zayn presses a quiet whine against Liam’s temple, abashed and shameful but the happy noise he makes when Liam cups his arse and shifts him into a kiss echoes over the rainfall saturating their skin.

They wade in this silence, not quite attempting to say all of the other words that are hidden between their touching skin and erratic hearts but Zayn thinks, confidently, that he’s comfortable with this.

With the water starting to cool and Liam’s whispers kissed across his neck, he feels less like a lesson and more like a promise Liam will always keep.

 

/*/

 

_‘whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’_

 

/*/

 

In the morning, when they’ve burrowed deep beneath the duvet with the sunlight hollowing out every corner of the room like a daydream and their fingers twisted around to brush over knuckles, Zayn feels something incredibly indescribable in his veins that says –

 _Wait_.

Yes – _this_ is _the start of something_.

And it’s a quiet feeling, a little untrue because it hasn’t been spoken but Liam’s got this sleepy smile and heavy eyes and curls twined around Zayn’s spare fingers.  He’s got warm bare feet brushing over Zayn’s ankles and sore muscles from the collision but this breathtakingly fond laugh whenever Zayn flutters his eyelashes.

It all makes Zayn weak, enclosed by everything he shouldn’t say because –

Well, he doesn’t have a _‘because’_ this time.

He has a heart in his throat and a boy tangled around him and a fear this will end too soon in his blood and an Ed Sheeran album on repeat in the background just to filter in breaths of _‘I should ink my skin with your name’_ or _‘but maybe I’m in love with you wake me up.’_

There’s a tray of breakfast outside of their door via Harry and two cups of hot tea from Niall and a poorly scrawled note from Louis with a –

_‘bro – tell him now or fuck him silly again but this is my gift to you so don’t waste it you twat’_

– attached that Zayn can’t help grinning at while Liam strides fingers down every knob in his spine.

And later on, he’s certain the world will call him prophetic or Liam will say he’s a psychic, but when they’re between the sheets with a nose sniffing at the crook of his neck and his fingers caught in Liam’s curls, he hears Liam’s breath hitch just before –

“If you could live anywhere in the – “

“ _Here_.  Right here, man,” Zayn says immediately, a little too happily, burying the width of it in Liam’s hair.  He thumbs against morning stubble along Liam’s jaw before attaching, “Right next to you Leeyum.”

He feels Liam’s aborted breath like he can’t quite contain it and his knuckles nudge up a chin for a kiss that promises an _‘I love you’_ will be attached to this sentiment years from now.

 _But wait_.

Not quite yet, but in a few years, with the world slowly eyeing them from afar and he knows no one will ever really see between the cracks.  The universe will never catch their fingers sliding up ribs or watch his teeth carving out pretty lines of poetry across Liam’s neck or understand why, in all of the shadows and hidden places, he loves Liam’s smile best against the round of his shoulder.

They won’t see how _maddeningly in love_ with this boy Zayn really is.

But they’ll gaze – no, they’ll _stare_ until they think they do.

 

/*/

 

_‘I will love you when you are a still day.  I will love you when you are a hurricane.’_

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty awful? I hope my assigned person really likes it (or at least finds parts to enjoy). Like I said -- it was a good reason to write Zayn and Liam, still young and slowly falling in love. Hope the underage stuff wasn't too ahrd to read or the OT5 elements.
> 
> Until next time kiddies -- stay in school.


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